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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592703">To The Ocean, Long Lost</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticBlades/pseuds/ChaoticBlades'>ChaoticBlades</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To The Ocean, Long Lost [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Baten Kaitos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(that applies to BOTH our leads), Ableism, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Awkward First Times, Background May/December Relationship, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Yakety Sax, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Child Abuse, Chapter Art, Character Study, Eye Trauma, F/F, F/M, FFX Fusion, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description of Corpses, Internalized Bigotry, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Mutual Pining, Neurodiversity, Nonbinary Character, Panic Attacks, Physical Disability, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Retcon Reconciliation, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Too Many Feast Scenes, Unreliable Narrator, for both games, hover-over text for primers/"translations", keep in mind that canon gives us multiple examples of onscreen dismemberment...., negative self-talk, or should i say... retconciliation?, so many spoilers, this sounds really grim but no more so than canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:43:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>242,319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticBlades/pseuds/ChaoticBlades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A long, long time ago it was.</p><p>Before people began to dwell in the Sky, a terrible Sin was committed by us humans, and we were punished by the birth of a wicked god.</p><p>After a horrendous battle, our ancestors entombed the wicked god, and left the polluted and barren earth to find a future in the Sky.</p><p>But the Sin of the past is not so easily forgotten.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gibari/Ladekhan (Baten Kaitos), Kalas/Xelha (Baten Kaitos), Larikush/Georg, Lyude/Ayme/Folon, Savyna/Lolo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To The Ocean, Long Lost [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Prologue</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Cast light u~u~pon~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The dar~kened earth </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sa~ave tho~ose </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lost in de~e~spair </em>
</p><p>He wasn’t sure what made him more nervous: the wispy presences that grasped at the nearest summoner they could find or the very solid—and yet somehow more ethereal—one behind him, watching.  The idle observation that She Should Not Be Here came and went, shrugged off like the old wives’ tale it was.</p><p>Besides, what was the point of heresy if he couldn’t bend the rules a little?</p><p>
  <em> O~o mi~ighty~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> O~o~o~ocean~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gu~ide u~us  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As we journey through </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The da~ar~kest </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pi~t of ni~ght </em>
</p><p>The fayth’s song set his teeth on edge. It always had, even before he sold his soul. When had the ocean ever done anything for the despairing? It certainly hadn’t helped Fee, who had been so excited to see the mighty Whale appear before him.</p><p>No, he’d long since realized that everything that tried to pass itself off as holy was really just Sin.</p><p>“The fayth here seem fond of you.”</p><p>“Well, it had to be the case somewhere,” he replied, finally approaching the tablet, “Hey, fayth! I need your power. Cough it up.”</p><p>She giggled. “Hardly the most elegant of prayers.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s working, isn’t it?” The slab was glowing and soon a figure appeared. The fayth. They cocked their head at him before seeming to reach a decision.</p><p>
  <em> Yes, this will do. </em>
</p><p>When he glanced back to see if She had heard too, the fayth flew forward and melded with him in a rush of light and petals. Somewhere deep inside him, deeper even than his wings of the heart, he felt the link form between summoner and aeon. It was a tremendous rush of power, almost intoxicating. And this was a bit player, nowhere near what their plans would bring him.</p><p>“In this world,” he started, “there are things you mustn’t touch.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>Laughing quietly to himself, he turned around to face her with a brazen grin.</p><p>“Who cares!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In Which We Should Probably All Just Stay Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Gram and Leon were being unusually forward today, which Xelha couldn’t have been more grateful for. She could barely hold back tears. All her hard work… her mother’s trust in her… wasted.</p><p>“Your Majesty, you did your best,” murmured Leon, stroking her back.</p><p>She felt Gram shift, and then he whispered, “We should return to Cebalrai before we draw any more attention.”</p><p>He said it softly to lessen the blow but her heart still lurched at the acknowledgment of her failure. With a belly full of dread, she withdrew her wings. Summoners were expected to keep them ceremonially extended. But an unsuccessful summoner—no different from the layperson—was under no such obligation.</p><p>Xelha found it in her to nod and pull away, walking through the crowd of onlookers to leave Moonguile Temple.</p><p>Aeon-less.</p><p>“Hey, look who’s crawling back!”</p><p>“Still want to call yourself a summoner?”</p><p>She flinched away, too ashamed of her failure to look her hecklers in the eye.</p><p>“Wingless freak.”</p><p>Startled, she glanced at her guards in askance, following their gaze to the door mere feet away from her. A door that had swung open to reveal a figure silhouetted by the light behind him. His right wing was long, narrow, and feathered, but the left was gleaming metal designed to mimic its partner. As if cut by the light streaming past its jagged edges, the crowd stumbled back from the newcomer.</p><p>Sarcastically laughing, he sauntered fully into view. Out of the corner of her eye, Xelha could see the others in the room flinching as the fully extended winglet scraped through the entranceway. However, she was drawn to the other wing, which slipped fluidly through one feather at a time. She followed the lay of the bone back to his face and froze.</p><p>The man who had haunted her dreams for years stopped in front of her.</p><p>Unlike in her visions, he was dressed in the ornate robes of a Miran summoner. Fine blue ray-moo fur billowed out from under an oversized wrap of filler wings. Rather than the headdresses traditional on the other islands, he wore a circlet of crystalized mirage weed, which retained enough of its properties to distort her vision when she tried to focus her eyes on any part of him. It was said to be for camouflage in the Trail of Souls, where Sin was known to lurk. </p><p>The entire ensemble was expensive and time-consuming to assemble, given how little of each resource could be gathered at a time—or, in the case of mirage weed, the difficulty of encasing it just as it begins to vanish.</p><p>It was strange to see him wear such things when he’d always appeared to be somewhat poor. A part of her was pleased to see him come into his own… but the greater part feared the source of his new-found wealth. Feared the terrible fate that hung over him.</p><p>
  <em> “Fee! Fee! Don’t leave me!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sin howled its displeasure. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How could you?! Damn you! Damn the Whale for letting this happen!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It split down the middle. Its blood leaked shadows, which coalesced into a dark figure with a heart of blazing blue fire. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’ll protect you!” she screamed, as she always did, as was always pointless. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I swear… I swear I’ll destroy you! No matter what it takes! You hear me, Sin?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was long past flinching as the terrible hand slammed through her incorporeal body. </em>
</p><p>Leon’s hand on her shoulder snapped her out of reminiscence. She realized that the other summoner had come to a stop directly in front of her.</p><p>“Hey, I know how rough it is being a summoner and all, but don’t go passing out.”</p><p>It was him. She’d known it immediately but now there could be no doubt. It was <em> him. </em></p><p>“My apologies,” Xelha said, as brightly as she could manage, “I didn’t mean to stare. I’ve heard about Miran summoners, but I’ve never seen one before.” Her voice stayed steady for the most part, which she couldn’t be more grateful for.</p><p>He cocked his head, looking her up and down. “You’re pretty unusual yourself. You’re not from the main islands, are you?”</p><p>“You could say that.” Against her will, a coy note found its way into her reply. When it earned her a grin, any thought of regretting her lapse was forgotten. He looked so much better when he smiled. Her heart struck itself in memory of what took that smile away.</p><p>Gram cleared his throat and moved to stand beside her. “My lady, perhaps we should let this summoner go about his business?”</p><p>“Oh!” She’d been so surprised to finally—<em> finally! </em>—meet him that she forgot they were standing in the middle of the temple. “Goodness, I have to apologize again.”</p><p>He waved it off. “No big deal. I can claim the aeon whenever I want.” He sketched the ceremonial bow, wings flared against the ground and hands curving to form the Eye of the Whale. “Praise be to Yevon.”</p><p>“Praise be to Yevon,” she echoed, his confident boast stinging just a bit.</p><p>He swept past her and she couldn’t help but turn to watch as he disappeared into the cloister. As soon as he was gone, the others regained their bravado, jeering at his back.</p><p>“There’s no way that monster will succeed this time!”</p><p>“Who cares? Even if he manages to con his way in—did you see? He doesn’t have any guardians!”</p><p>“Ha! That’s right!”</p><p>“Kalas doesn’t stand a chance!”</p><p>Crowing their contempt, the villagers filtered out one by one, resuming the tasks they’d abandoned to gawk. The room emptied, Gram turned to her. “Your Majesty, we should return to the inn.” When she didn’t move, he continued, “You’ll need your strength if you’re to succeed tomorrow.”</p><p>“Gram… Leon… I’m sorry, I….”</p><p><em> I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t even be thinking it! </em> Xelha chided herself. But duty or no, her mind had been made up long ago. She had a vow to fulfill.</p><p>Facing them with determination, she said, “I think it’s for the best that I join Summoner Kalas as his guardian.” Seeing their horror, she elaborated, “I won’t require you to accompany me. It’s just that he was there. In my vision.” She smiled, fake but bright. “Besides, I may have better luck in the next temple!”</p><p>Leon seemed like he wanted to pledge his continued service but, as usual, he looked to Gram for guidance. Kindhearted though he was, he liked to hear all arguments before speaking.</p><p>Gram was less shy about investigating her sudden change of heart. “I see. Then, he is fated to defeat Sin?”</p><p>
  <em> No. </em>
</p><p>“Yes, I believe so,” she replied, “I’m sorry for lying to you. Dark forces are closing in on him that he needs me to protect him from.” That, at least, was true.</p><p>Leon, mulling it over, said quietly, “Queen Xelha, if I may, I’d like to join you as his guardian… and yours.”</p><p>Did she want him along? Would Gram ask as well? She would never know, for it was that moment that the ground trembled. Screaming came in from the outside, loud enough to be heard through the thick temple walls.</p><p>Bursting through the doors, they were horrified to see a young sabre dragon stampeding through the outskirts of Cebalrai that dotted Moonguile Forest. With one sharp command, Gram and Leon were dispatched to stand between it and a cowering child in black. Xelha, meanwhile, suppressed the insistent roaring of the sea in her heart, readying a spell.</p><p>“<em> CHRONAGA—“ </em></p><p>Leon picked up the child and kicked off the ground, summoning his wings mid-jump. However, he wasn’t fast enough—the dragon caught and tore out a clump of albatross feathers. He was dragged to the ground and scraped along the rubble, somehow managing to clutch the child out of harm’s way.</p><p>Gram shot forward across the ground, as flightless as the penguins his wings so resembled. Though he braced his spear properly, the raw power of the sabre dragon, even one so young, was enough to shatter it in his hands.</p><p>
  <em> “—BLOW!” </em>
</p><p>The glyph unfolded in front of Gram, punching the beast back with a shockwave that flattened the nearest buildings. It was sent skidding and bouncing into the trees, where it was nailed to one of them by its own tusks.</p><p>“Leon!” she called fearfully, but it was drowned out by his pained wails.</p><p>The damage was extensive. His right wing was stripped near bare, and half-torn-off besides. Despite this, he was still shielding the child with as much of his body as he could. The child had little more than torn clothes to worry about. Leon’s injuries were a different matter. He was already going into shock from the brutalization of his wings. If they were home in Wazn, a remedy could be prepared from the rare heartenbrace herb, extinct but for the plants cultivated in the witches’ arboretum. Xelha would happily make the brew herself. But they were impossibly far from their homeland and hadn’t thought to bring the medicine.</p><p>However, there was no time to think, as the dragon was close to working itself free, further maddened by pain. Calling her wings, Xelha flew past it and veered right, luring it away from the village and her defenseless companions. Moments later, she was struck from her flight path with bone-breaking force. It tossed her into the earth disturbed by its claws, where she briefly blacked out from agony.</p><p>Awakening, she saw it in front of her, rearing up to crush the life out of her.</p><p>She closed her eyes and begged forgiveness of the goddess.</p><p>“<em>DARKARA FLARE!” </em></p><p>The dragon was smote.</p><p>“Oh dear, you look like you’re in pain,” said a sweet voice, the same that, mere seconds before, had called upon the dark powers, “Let me help you.” Soft footsteps padded over the leaves. Then a small hand was placed upon her shoulder. <em> “Cure Stream.” </em></p><p>Energy suffused her to her core, mending every break and scrape in a wave of pale green light. As soon as she could, Xelha gasped, “M-my friends!”</p><p>“Are as well as I could make them,” said her savior soothingly, “The villagers are carrying the one called Leon to your inn.”</p><p>“Gram…?” she prompted, rising and brushing off the loam.</p><p>“Lady Summoner!”</p><p>It was Gram, shaken but otherwise unharmed. “My lady, I—“</p><p>She silenced him with a hand upon his cheek. “You did everything you could for me. Now you need to do the same for Leon, understood?” She waited for the glimmer of understanding to spark in his eyes before letting go, dismissing him from the mission with a heavy heart. She’d wanted to continue alone, but not like this. Not at the cost of her dear countrymen.</p><p>He started to say his farewells, but swallowed his sentimentality for Leon’s sake—with a wing injury so serious, no time could be spared. He disappeared back into Cebalrai and out of her service.</p><p>“You’re staying?”</p><p>Xelha knew how odd it must look. Though no Wazni summoner had left their borders in centuries, it would have been clear what she was even if Gram hadn’t addressed her as such. Like most summoners, she wore a brief wrap-around garment, though hers was so much so that it was more akin to a happi than the usual kimono. The front of the lower hem almost entirely disappeared into her sash, which was decorated with the geometric bands and patterns traditional of Wazni textiles, whereas the back split into nearly ankle-length coattails. The coat was pink with yellow lining running down all the hems save for those at the ends of the arms, which were patterned similarly to her sash.</p><p>The sleeves extended to her glove-clad wrists in a wide trumpet that almost reached her knees when her arms were level with her shoulders. A pair of decorative gaps in the fabric let her shoulders and elbows peek out. At the moment they were bare, but a knitted red sweater was a mere magnus away. Obscuring the collar was a puffy, detached white hood hemmed with small, ornamental golden bells, which also adorned her bracelets, anklets, and the ends of her channeling wand. She wore simple slippers and puffy breeches over bare legs in an effort to keep cool on a hot island like Sadal Suud, though a pair of vertically-striped leggings were stored with her sweater.</p><p>Xelha turned back to the stranger. “Yes, I have a duty to defeat Sin. I want to become guardian to the summoner currently in the temple, if he’ll have me.”</p><p>“You mean Kalas?” she said with a fond smile, “Well, I’m even happier to have saved you now.” She bowed as far as her intricate dress would allow. “I could always use the help of another guardian to keep him out of trouble. My name is Melodia, and I’m Kalas’ first—and until now, only—guardian~♥~”</p><p>Melodia was pale, almost sickly, which made her scarlet eyes appear all the more red. Despite her foreboding appearance, Melodia exuded grace, charm, and an endearing fragility that called to every protective instinct that Xelha possessed. She wore a slender silk gown of pure white, decorated with filmy lace of cream and pink around the neck, collar, hem, and down the shoulder all the way to the hem of the sleeves. It stretched from the bottom of her jaw to just below the knees, though 2 short slits on either side allowed for ease of movement. It had long, billowing sleeves that caught playfully in the wind, as did a translucent cape and veil. Around her waist was a golden sash from which dangled a shimmering skirt. It, the cape, and the veil all appeared to be of the same material, which looked as if it had been cut from soap bubbles. It shifted through an array of colors and idly undulated like the hood of a jellyfish.</p><p>She bore no weapons that Xelha could see, though attached to her forearms were shields in the shape of a 7-pointed star. They were formed of diamonds of stained glass in blue, white, turquoise, red, lime, black, and forest green. The elements, Xelha realized—aqua, holy, wind, fire, bio, dark, and chronos.</p><p>“I’m Xelha,” she said, nodding back, “Thank you. For everything.”</p><p>Melodia laughed again and laid her hand on Xelha’s shoulder, guiding her back to the temple. She was relieved to see that the villagers had been healed as well, if their industrious sorting of the wreckage was any indication. Back inside Moonguile Temple, she was shocked to see that Kalas had already emerged from the cloister. He seemed drained and slightly shaken but otherwise well, shooting her a crooked grin.</p><p>“Hey, you’re still here,” he noted, eyes flicking between the two arrivals.</p><p>Melodia stepped back and to the side and gestured towards her. “This is Xelha. She helped me protect the village from fiends while you were occupied with the fayth.” She gave him a Look whose significance was both abundant and completely lost on Xelha. “She wants to be your guardian.”</p><p>He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at that. “My guardian? No offense, but I’d rather not be the settling option.”</p><p>“You’ve got it all wrong!” she cried, “You’re not—“ She cut herself off, unable to think of a plausible lie for why she abandoned her own journey.</p><p>Thankfully, Melodia saved her again. “Kalas,” she gently scolded, “this brave young woman would make an excellent guardian. I witnessed her myself casting powerful magic. She almost took down a sabre dragon, all on her own!”</p><p>“You’re flattering me,” Xelha deflected with a blush, “You’re the one who defeated it. And you healed everyone besides! Your mana capacity must be incredible!”</p><p>“Ah, but you weakened it greatly before I even arrived, and distracted it from causing more destruction. You were spectacular.” The Look returned, daring Kalas to refuse her.</p><p>He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. Welcome to the group, Xelha.” The put-upon expression seemed real but she didn’t get the impression that he was really bothered by her addition.</p><p>“Thank you, I’ll do my best!”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Melodia called their attention back by bringing her hands together into a clap. “It’s been a long day for all of us. How about we head back to our lodgings and get better acquainted?” It was quickly becoming clear that, though Kalas was the summoner, it was her that was truly in charge. Xelha wondered how that came about.</p><p><em> I’ll have plenty of time to figure that out, </em> she decided, following the two out of the temple and… into the woods? They soon came across a small log cabin. It was clearly abandoned—the door was missing and a lantern lay shattered on the ground outside—but the windows were filled with pots of sweet pink flowers and she could see a quilted bed inside. They let her enter first to poke around as they unwound, Kalas carefully placing his staff on the fireplace mantle and Melodia folding herself gracefully onto the bed.</p><p>It was a simple, single-room dwelling, as was common in Sadal Suud, with only the most basic amenities. However, there was a sturdiness to it that belied its humble origins. If not for the thick layer of dust, one would never guess that it wasn’t in regular use. There was something about it that made Xelha feel at home.</p><p>The bed rested in the northeast corner of the room, grouped together with a chest and what turned out to be a folding divider. Opening the chest, she found meticulously sorted medical supplies (<span>as well as a children’s book she couldn’t read</span>). Mirabilis blossoms, extract of alraune, mirage weed sprigs, dried fire moss, dagwood bark, celestial petals, photosynth lily, sandcap spores, maple leaf, ground thornflower, root-rotten flower, young wasabi root, birch sap gum… the former owner was a doctor, and must have been a storied one at that. She closed the lid and peered around the room with greater interest. As she did so, Kalas struck a fire into being, illuminating the herbs hanging from the ceiling, sacks of grain and legumes, and, most interestingly, the cauldron hidden in the corner closest the door. It hit her then that the homey feeling was due to the familiar smell of potions brewing.</p><p><em> It’s been two—no, three weeks since this place was abandoned </em> , noted Xelha, crinkling her nose at the over-boiled herbs, <em> Where could the owner have gone? </em> An unpleasant thought struck her: the sabre dragon had been unusually close to a human settlement for such a reclusive creature. Perhaps it had gained a taste for human flesh from feeding on one that was separate from the main ‘herd’. She whispered a quick prayer for the unfortunate doctor.</p><p>The sizzle of cooking meat caught her attention, and so she quickly rooted out the brew’s final ingredients so as to add them before the smell of food confused her nose. From a nearby basket she pulled three honeycombs and a small jar of royal jelly, which she grated and melted in respectively. “Fifty stirs to the left/Gives it body, breadth, and depth,” she chanted under her breath, relying on the old nursery rhymes to supplement years of disuse, “Twenty stirs to the right/Will undo flesh’s blight.”</p><p>She felt the others’ eyes on her. She tuned them out by checking the spell keeping the cauldron heated. However, rather than magic, it seemed to be some sort of machina.</p><p>“Reduce the heat and let it cool…”</p><p>Or flip the machina’s switch to produce a chilly breeze. She was surprised—she’d thought that the main islands usually let it cool on its own, not realizing that doing so made it lose some of its potency.</p><p>“…Heat back up ‘til bubbles pool.”</p><p>Behind her, Kalas cursed and the smell of burning pow drifted forward. He must have forgotten to pay attention to what was really important.</p><p>“Then let it sit and coalesce/And it will heal wound and abscess.”</p><p>“So…,” began Kalas.</p><p>She turned and walked across the room to sit opposite him. He had his left hand in a bowl of water, the right retrieving slightly charred kebabs from the fireplace. Melodia arrived just after her, dropping a pillow to kneel on. She accepted her share of the food and ate it without complaint, seemingly unaware of the flavor but for the occasional reflexive tightening of the throat.</p><p><em> Which means that none of us can cook </em>, Xelha realized glumly. Her attention was drawn back by Kalas handing her a handful of kebab sticks, which she nervously accepted.</p><p>He continued, “You some kind of white mage?”</p><p>“Oh no,” she replied, pausing to nibble at her food. Not terrible, but not good either. She hoped that as he gathered more guardians, they would gain companions who knew what they were doing, since she herself could never figure out what she was supposed to do with the ingredients. “I consider myself primarily a black mage.” She could see the questions in their eyes. “As the most powerful mage in my community, it was my duty to stop Sin, so I became a summoner as well.”</p><p>Deep inside her, she felt Shiva rebuke her for not summoning her earlier. Though Xelha felt guilty for neglecting the aeon her foremothers had left for her, there was a part of her that hated Shiva—or at least the fate she represented.</p><p>“Oh,” he said simply.</p><p>Melodia tried her hand at breaking the awkward atmosphere. “I’m something of a red mage, as you saw earlier.” From her coy smile, Xelha could guess that either she was much more powerful than she was implying or she had other skills besides her magic. Though young, slight, and delicate, Melodia was clearly not all that she appeared to be. She was a force to be reckoned with.</p><p>Though not against the silence, which overtook them again and, this time, wouldn’t let go.</p>
<hr/><p>Moonguile Temple? Check, aeon acquired.</p><p>Pherkad? Check, they were on the last leg of the long carriage ride through Nunki Valley.</p><p>Regroup with guardian? Check… and not.</p><p>Kalas didn’t understand Melodia’s reasoning for allowing Xelha along, and it wasn’t exactly like he could ask her with the other guardian hovering. But he wasn’t about to argue with the boss. If she wanted a washed-up summoner along… well, he’d been there himself. Might as well help the new blood out.</p><p>He eyed her where she sat across from him, staring out the window like she’d never seen trees before. He had to admit that the ease with which he accepted his second guardian was for the sheer <em> mystery </em>. Xelha came out of nowhere, no discernable nationality or affiliation, and became his guardian almost behind his back. At first he wondered if she was an Al Fhard spy, but her pupils were as round as his. Xelha had a peach complexion, curly blonde hair, and amber, almost gold, eyes. Her summoner’s garb was like nothing he’d ever seen. His best guess was that she was from Hassaleh, someone who was smart enough to find another home when it first started sinking into the Taintclouds.</p><p>The ride passed with no incidents. He almost wished fiends would attack, just so that something would break the awkward silence. <em> Then </em> he remembered the run-in he’d had with an annoyingly sturdy spider on the way to Cebalrai and retracted that wish. They paid the driver and stepped off into the busy (for Sadal Suud) streets of Pherkad. Even Xelha didn’t seem impressed with the size, though she seemed to take a great deal of interest in the city fashion and a nearby cart of apples.</p><p><em> Don’t tell me the goody-two-shoes summoner illicitly crossed the border? </em>Kalas laughed to himself, watching her walk over to the nearest bulletin, which happened to be a city map.</p><p>“The next pilgrimage destination is in Diadem, right?” To his surprise, she seemed to be genuinely asking.</p><p>“You got it! Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled, looking around the small city in disgust, “The sooner we leave, the sooner we get Ladekahn’s permission to enter the Shrine of Winds.” He couldn’t wait for <em> that </em> conversation, thanks to a certain future duchess who’d insisted on personally accompanying him. A duchess who left on the down-low to avoid trouble with miscreants seeking to make some easy gold, thereby making him out to be a kidnapper for those not in the know. Which was everyone besides Melodia herself.</p><p>Melodia tittered. “How about we split up to gather supplies, so that poor Kalas doesn’t have to suffer any longer?” </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes and pointed straight forward. “I’ll go this way. Rodolfo’s manor’s not far down.” Rodolfo. His lip curled. “Maybe he’ll have free stuff for the future High Summoner.”</p><p>Not that he was betting on it.</p><p>The two barely acknowledged his decision, instead deciding who would gather what. Kalas walked off.</p><p>As he went, he noticed that the streets were unusually—and progressively more—bare the closer he came to the manor. When he reached the street that housed that progenious old fart, he ducked into a pocket of clouds on instinct. </p><p>And waited.</p><p>…</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>He was just about to leave—</p><p>“<span>Qywwa! A kosz qas as zqu Ustawu junewu qu hos ukhotu opoas!</span>”</p><p>—when he heard something that chilled his blood.</p><p>“<span> Auok, auok, A’s vesasb. A thzarr zkasv aey’tu sovasb o kab luor eyz en sezkasb.</span>”</p><p>He knew that voice. He knew <em> both </em> those voices.</p><p>Kalas dared to peek.</p><p>He’d been right.</p><p>Giacomo and Ayme, the Al Fhard that had lurked over his shoulder for as long as he could remember, were once again in his way. At least he could breathe easy knowing they’d found some other schmuck to chase. Giacomo led the way in his skintight, veiny, and oddly abdominal-exposing imperial leathers, Ayme dragging their prisoner along behind him. She looked as he remembered her too: braided pink hair, dark Al Zhani skin, and black body armor. The prisoner was a white mage, his face obscured by the hood over his head. He wore a loose, white silk robe held in place by a large blue sash, knotted into a vertical bow in the back. A veteran, then.</p><p>He’d almost lost interest when the hood was jostled down.</p><p>“…Grandpapa?” he gasped.</p><p>As much as he hoped otherwise, there was no mistaking Larikush. He was older and had bruises from a beating, but he looked just as Kalas remembered him.</p><p>“<span>A’s thetta net zku zkasbth zkoz kutu lesu ze aey—zkoz ku lal ze aey! Kyz zkath kes’z vkosbu osa—“</span></p><p>Ayme kicked Larikush in the gut before he could finish his plead. “<span>Thkyz az, buuthut!”</span></p><p>Giacomo, who’d been the first to speak, ended the conversation with, “<span>Useypq! Ku kzarr suul ze toa o bakaz ze Cebalrai. A quowl zurr en o kyssesuw kqe A kyktuhz ak Kalas.</span>”</p><p>Kalas froze. They were looking for him. </p><p>Fear turned to fury. <em> They hurt Papa to find me, </em> he realized, fists tightening until it felt like his knuckles would break, <em> They hurt Papa! </em></p><p>Head and heart clashed violently and decisively—as did the clouds and his wings when the latter won. The mist was sent rolling away as his winglet cut through it with a metallic rasp. He scraped the top of his staff across the ground as he charged forward, knocking off the decorative fixture. Doing so triggered the release of the mechanism keeping the body of the staff elongated. It snapped back, revealing it for the double-bladed sword it was.</p><p>Giacomo turned slowly, a terrible grin crawling over his face when he saw who was attacking him. He casually swung his scythe to block Kalas’ front blade.</p><p>“Ah, Kalas, so kind of you to spare me the trouble of looking for you,” he drawled, knocking the blade aside with enough force to send Kalas completely off-balance.</p><p>As he stumbled back, Ayme hooked a leg behind his knee, sending him crashing onto his rump, the scythe lowering to ghost over his adam’s apple.</p><p>“Twelve years of hunting and you leap into my arms,” Giacomo continued conversationally.</p><p>Ayme laughed and ground Kalas’ hand into the ground with her heel. “<span>Az'th orsethz o ruzleks!”</span></p><p>He chuckled in agreement. “Almost, but not quite.” Kneeling, he looked Kalas in the eye as he forcefully bound his hands in front of him with rope. “The Emperor will be most pleased to have you back, Kalas. As am I.”</p><p>“Why?! So you can lock me away again?!” spat Kalas, jerking his arms in vain. Frustrated, he turned to Larikush. “Papa, how did they find you?”</p><p><em> Why did you leave us when it didn’t even keep you safe? </em> went unsaid. Hiding from Al Fhard had been difficult when their family consisted of two young children with unusual wings, a genius engineer who refused to hide his gifts, and a doctor who was at the top of seemingly every medical field. In the end, Larikush decided to leave to make it easier for them to blend in. Kalas had been 12 at the time. As hard as it was for him to see his grandpapa go, Fee was only 8 then and needed his support.</p><p>Larikush pursed his lips worriedly. “Kalas, there’s something you need to know—“</p><p>Ayme slapped him silent. “Shut!” she cried, accented but understandable.</p><p>“Don’t you dare touch Papa!” Kalas screamed, instinctively reaching deep inside to call to his aeons.</p><p>Though Ayme made a move to interrupt, Giacomo waved her down. “Let him have his fun.” </p><p>Kalas tasted blood and acid—it surged through him, a sensation of bitter power. He felt his lips curl into a smirk as if possessed by another, growing wider when his foes noticed the dark, ominous fog leaking through the gaps in his teeth. He thought he heard Larikush cry his name in alarm, but the fog soon obscured all his senses.</p><p>A guttural roar came from deep within his soul, emerging out his throat. The fog rapidly coalesced into a monstrous teal griffon covered in gory chains. They encircled every part of its body, trailing off into a pile on the ground. The ends appeared around Kalas’ arms, winding with painful tightness.</p><p>“<em>AR! </em>” he bellowed triumphantly.</p><p>The aeon moved forward jerkily, sending tremors through Pherkad’s streets. He couldn’t take his eyes off it as it tore a cart-sized gash in the cobblestone where Giacomo had been standing an instant prior.</p><p>He’d leapt back with Ayme and Larikush flung over his shoulders, just in time thanks to the quick activation of his ankle winglets. He cracked the downward-turned beak with a precise, powerful strike.</p><p>“<span>Ayme, A ruobu zqak ze aey!</span>” The command issued, he dropped her and flew off with his prisoner.</p><p>Rather than look scared, she gave a vicious grin and drew a pair of pistol blades, spinning them expertly. With a cocky salute, she slotted them together to form a full-sized gunblade.</p><p>“<span>Vesu buz su, bovvothth!</span>” she taunted.</p><p><em> Let’s see you laugh after </em>this. Kalas ordered Ar to rip her limb from limb, watching in satisfaction as it moved faster than anyone could hope to dodge.</p><p>Unfortunately, Ayme wasn’t ‘anyone’.</p><p>With inhuman speed, she ducked and swerved and leapt, peppering Ar with lightning-fast kicks all the while. Ar flared its crane-like wings, intending to lift off; in an instant, the fight was over. Ayme sprang forward, gunblade in hand, and pulled the trigger, the vibrations allowing the sword to easily cut through its tough hide.</p><p>His aeon retreating to heal, Kalas was left wide open to the high kick aimed at his head.</p><p>“<span>Thruud zabkz, valle.</span>”</p>
<hr/><p>Pherkad was much smaller than Xelha had expected. But then she was comparing it to Cursa, the city that housed an entire nation. While there were those who dwelled in the inhospitable cliffs, such settlements could barely be called hamlets. More often than not they comprised of the young and ambitious, who would use the extreme conditions to hone their craft for a year or two, then return to the citadel.</p><p>Pherkad was still a city, but it gave off the impression of a small town where opinions were much like the stone of the buildings: chiseled in place during bygone eras, to the confoundment of anything seeking to erode them.</p><p>However, for all that it was lacking in the latest trends and innovations, it made up for in its markets. One need only follow the crowd to reach courtyard after courtyard of wagons and crate stacks, or else cobblestone streets lined with smaller vendors. Sadali women sashayed past in their bright skirts and protruding sleeves to haggle for pasties and warm, crumbly soda bread. Men in overalls stacked tomatoes of more colors than she knew existed. Foreigners bobbed between the wares, oblivious to the muffled sniggers as they confused shallots for onions and rutabagas for turnips and nectarines for peaches.</p><p>
  <em> Squ-squeak! </em>
</p><p>As strange to her as the warmth and rhythm were, there was one thing that never changed, no matter how far afield she roamed: she was all but swarmed by greythornes as soon as just one took note of her presence.</p><p>In their excitement, a few bounced right into her arms, fortunately remembering to adjust their size beforehand. Xelha had been on the receiving end of a greythorne dogpile before and, soft as their blubbery bodies were, it always resulted in bruises when each was the size of a baby seal. The rest of the land-bound whale-kin formed a ring around her, squeaking loud enough to hurt her ears.</p><p>Xelha giggled, pushing back the cold snouts. “Stop, stop!”</p><p>“Aw, they really like you, don’t they?” Melodia bent to stroke one. It cooed, its black and yellow head ducking towards its fins. “But I’m afraid we need to keep moving. You dears understand, don’t you?”</p><p>They seemed to, scampering away when she moved closer.</p><p>Stepping around those few remaining underfoot, Xelha started towards a stall piled high with burlap sacks. “Should we just buy salt? It’s pricey, but the number of uses….”</p><p>“No need to be shy. We have gold to spare, so we may as well make this journey as comfortable as possible.”</p><p>Something about her smile made Xelha uneasy, so she simply nodded and stayed quiet until they encountered the opposite problem at the bakery. “I have a few magnus with non-essentials that we can empty out for more space…?”</p><p>“I would never ask you to throw away something you care about!” That smile was back. Generous, yet somehow cold. “Don’t worry, my father was very well-travelled, and I inherited his magnus.”</p><p>She tried one more time at the magnus shop proper. “Melodia, I can’t help but notice you don’t have a weapon. I can teach you how to use wands, if you’d like.”</p><p>“That’s sweet of you, Xelha, but I already have all the weapons I could need. Heeheehee~♥”</p><p>Her neck prickled with discomfort. So much so it was almost a relief when the ground began to shake. The memory of the previous day spurred Xelha to unfurl her wings and fling herself forward at top speed—</p><p>—which only made it all the more painful when an arm looped around her waist a block away from the manor.</p><p>“It appears we’re poor guardians,” Melodia noted, propelling them both backwards into a small alleyway with a well. Though she lowered her voice to be barely above a whisper, she sounded as calm as ever despite the disturbing sight before them.</p><p>Pherkad’s main street gaped open—a wound bleeding guardsmen and laborers, whose Sadalian clothing couldn’t hide their Al Zhani accents. A woman demanding silence so as not to exacerbate her husband’s illness was all but thrown into the nearest wall by an ornery captain. Even Xelha, ill-experienced with construction work as she was, could tell that the damage would take weeks to repair. A rasping sound as she moved her foot revealed <span> a bundle of papers half-torn from their spine</span>. It was lucky, she realized, that such an accident had happened in a wide street, where few were hurt and there was little history to destroy.</p><p>However, far more concerning was the fell presence that clung to the destruction. She’d felt it before, in the temple, yet that too was not her first encounter with it. As she stared numbly at the tainted rubble, she heard the screams from her visions echo through her mind. A dark, ancient magic had been loosened upon the city. As a mage, a summoner, and an Ice Queen, she could sense the depth of its blight as easily as she saw the physical damage.</p><p>“Malpercio,” she breathed.</p><p>Melodia, who’d since let go of her waist, didn’t seem to catch her slip. “It’s a good thing we bought so many potions.” Walking further in the alley, she stretched and hummed a simple song. Noticing that Xelha wasn’t following, she teased over her shoulder, “You won’t be able to save Kalas if you get caught loitering in a restricted area.”</p><p>“How can you be so calm?!” Nonetheless, she scurried forward.</p><p>“Oh, you’ll get used to this sort of thing,” said Melodia, waving off the danger, “I would be more worried if Kalas <em> didn’t </em> get into trouble every time I turn my back.” She stopped in front of the well and slowly turned to face Xelha, eyes narrowing. “Though I am worried that Lord Rodolfo has connections to the Al Fhard.” She cocked her head in consideration. “Well, at least we know exactly where to look for our wayward summoner~♥~”</p><p>Any protest she could muster died on Xelha’s lips as Melodia unfurled her wings. They crept out from behind her back like frost spreading across glass: pane by pane, feather by feather, until a full set of dove wings stretched out behind her. To Xelha’s amazement, each and every feather was a piece of frosted glass, delicately carved with the characteristics of their organic counterparts. They flexed with surprising fluidity, thick copper wire both joining the pieces and acting as hinges.</p><p>A look passed between them. Reassurance. Confidence. Amiability.</p><p>It was just enough that when Melodia lifted off, Xelha followed without question.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 1/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 1/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. In Which Reunions Are Easier Said Than Done</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>

  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A brutal, stabbing headache. A mouthful of carpet fibers. Giacomo’s stupid, smug face on the back of his eyelids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all, it wasn’t one of Kalas’ happier mornings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear I’ll get you back for this,” he muttered into the rug (to his immediate regret, since he accidentally swallowed a clump of fluffpup fur in the process). Groaning, he squirmed his way to his knees to get a better look at how his situation compared to the last time he was kidnapped by the Al Fhard.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course they tied me up this time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he noted dourly, testing the strength of the mana-suppressing manacles clamped around his wrists. He groaned when they wouldn’t budge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room itself was obviously in Rodolfo’s manor, given the opulence—a guest room with comfy-looking beds that proved that his kidnappers were the petty jerks he’d always known them to be. There were only a few other pieces of furniture, if oversized vases and decorative bowls of scummy water counted as such. There was also a small table with chairs that he was studiously ignoring due to what was piled on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas considered napping on the bed out of sheer boredom, but he didn’t want to give Giacomo the satisfaction. Instead he decided to pay pettiness unto pettiness and pushed the two beds to block the door, then scooped up a handful of the slime from the water to jam the locks, doing the same to the windows for good measure. It took some time—it was hard to maneuver the beds properly with just his knees, let alone fiddle with locks with his hands behind his back—but the bruises were worth it. Besides which, he got to get back at Rodolfo for bending over for the Empire by cleaning his hands on the no doubt horribly expensive carpet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Successfully barricaded, he kicked one of the vases until the thick clay broke into large, sturdy chunks. None of them were small enough to pick his lock with. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span>, however, just the right size to start boring a hole in the wall. Guards would be watching the obvious escape routes, but no one would expect him to create his own exit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming for you, Giacomo, Ayme, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>pricks</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he snarled through a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had to take a break five minutes later to ease the ache, well, it wasn’t as if he had any witnesses to laugh at him.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, sirs, but could you spare some time to help me?~♥~“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Melodia was facing away from her, Xelha could see the winsome smile she was directing at the manor’s main guards. If nothing else, it was obvious from their blushing and stammering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-sorry, miss, but we’re under strict orders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d almost stepped out from behind her cover--an empty barrel with the lingering smell of apples--when she noticed one of the guards trying to avoid eye contact with the ingénue in front of him. No good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia giggled and waved off their concerns with an elegant bend of the wrist. “Oh, come now, surely one of you can be spared? Pherkad is such a safe city thanks to all of you fine gentlemen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-but—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will only take a moment,” she shushed them, “No one will even have to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were wavering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was as good an opportunity as Xelha could expect. She took one last glance to make sure they weren’t paying attention and bolted up the wall to her left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the help of her wings, she made it to the top and dropped to her stomach, as planned. The leaves of the organic architecture hiding her, she slunk forward as quietly as possible. According to what little reconnaissance they could manage the previous day, the best way to sneak into the manor would be via the terrace that served as a private dock. All she had to do was crawl until she hit the rounded outer wall, scale it, and use the garden as cover to sneak in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once in, she was to pretend to be a maid, find Kalas, and signal Melodia by way of a large explosion. Xelha had been alarmed by the consequences of such a move ‘til Melodia, in a manner altogether lacking the reassurance she no doubt intended to convey, suggested that her part at that point of the plan would be far more interesting to their enemies. She was split between the part of her that wanted to know more and the part that noticed how oddly confident Melodia and Kalas were in her abilities. The rest of her was simply convinced that her new friend was not a red mage at all, but a sage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So focused was she on reviewing the plan, Xelha bumped headfirst into the wall. She stifled a cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-well, to be honest, there’s something going on. Uh—I didn’t tell you that though. Um. Maybe I should just…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least the guards were busy with other matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She followed the gradual curve of the wall for 66 paces. It seemed a somewhat short distance, but it wasn’t as if she, raised to be queen and summoner, was an expert. As a commoner, Melodia was much more likely to know practical skills like that. She put her faith in her companion, unfurled her wings, and dashed up the side of the building. If she was where she was supposed to be, she should reach her limit just as the terrace came within her reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia… was wrong?</span>
  </em>
  <span> was her only thought as, exhausted, she crashed through two layers of windows and shutters and into an oversized lamp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>DAMN—IT</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he growled as the shard in his hand crumbled. The last shard left between the two vases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that, and he’d barely gouged enough of a hole to fit his fist into the next room. Stupid well-built walls. Stupid cheap vases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting out an aggressive breath of air, Kalas flopped onto his left side to stare at the door. He hadn’t heard any footsteps come down the hall, nor had anyone tried to open it since he woke. While he wasn’t thrilled to see that change, it was more than a little suspicious that he’d been hunted all his life only to be abandoned in a backwater city in a backwater nation. If nothing else, the Empire gave their prisoners actual water instead of bowls of algae.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s it! Why didn’t I do that to begin with?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas rolled to his feet. Sensing another opportunity for spitefulness, he kicked over both of the art pieces, even though he only needed one to continue his work. It took quite a bit longer to get a firm grip on the stand than it had the shards. Still, the power he could put behind the metal more than made up for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THUD.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was louder too.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THUD.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he could handle some peons.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THUD.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The wall was already suffering.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THUD.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He might actually get free!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CRACK.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropping the stand, he whipped around to get a better look at the damage. The size of the hole had only doubled, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>it had doubled.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d made the same progress in less than a minute! He laughed and toed the loose pieces off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You needn’t bother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo’s unmistakable footsteps led him farther into the room, the door clicking shut. He continued, “I locked the door of the neighboring room when you first began this little escape plan of yours. Your efforts are commendable nonetheless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kalas turned around, Giacomo had already seated himself at the untouched table, sifting through the Al Fhard primers covering it. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Now, Kalas, it’s fully understandable for a young boy to avoid his lessons, but you’re old enough now to be held accountable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crossed his arms and glared. “I don’t care where I was born. I’m not Al Fhard and I don’t want to learn the language. Go bother somebody else.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Bother someone else’?” Giacomo grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment of blank staring at the uncharacteristic echo, Kalas recognized that particular smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t tell me he’s going to go on about </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he inwardly groaned, watching the smug, insufferable bastard build tension for the delusion he was going to rant about again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, his suspenseful pause lasted but a moment more. “It would be rather remiss of me to do so, seeing as how—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re Gramps’ son, which makes you my father, blah blah </span>
  <em>
    <span>blah</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” huffed Kalas, rolling his eyes, “I didn’t buy it when I was twelve; what makes you think I will now?” Unfortunately, he knew from experience that his defiant act was only being tolerated out of amusement. It was yet another round of the game they’d played for as long as he could remember: he would scuffle along the line until Giacomo decided that a toe had made it across.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you give it—</span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>—a try, boy?” Apparently his fuse had shortened since they’d last met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas obeyed the unspoken order to sit at the table, though he injected as much of his irritation into the act as he could get away with. “I already have a papa,” he muttered as he flopped aggressively onto his seat. It creaked but he wasn’t able to break it. He compensated for the disappointment by tossing his legs on the table and glaring mutinously over at his captor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean Dr. Larikush?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, quirking an eyebrow to pretend he’d meant to be heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet he didn’t even teach you Al Zhani,” Giacomo tutted, turning <span>the first primer</span> towards him, “If you understood our language, you would be more appreciative of the efforts our people have made for your sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean all those times you kidnapped me? Yeah, I guess I would be all buddy-buddy with you guys if I knew what <span>‘vyauz, gwoz’</span> meant.” He stared at his hands, idly wishing his fingernails were long enough for him to pick disinterestedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo, misunderstanding the gesture, said in as soothing a voice as he could muster, “I didn’t know you were spoken to in such a way. I’ll see to it that no one ever does so again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His duties as a ‘father’ fulfilled, he tapped the page for Kalas’ attention. “Now, as you can see, this letter is formed of two curved lines. It should come to you easily enough… if you practice properly.” The threat, while vague, was enough for Kalas to sigh and accept the fountain pen Giacomo handed to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said as bitingly as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was rewarded with an insincere smile trying—and failing—to cover up its owner’s dismay.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When the room came back into focus, Xelha rose to her haunches, holding her aching head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I must have blacked out for a moment</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, dazedly noticing that the sun’s position hadn’t changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as she had stumbled to her feet, the muffled sound of voices filtered in through an opening door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An intrud—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard was quickly silenced by a flying jab at his solar plexus. Before his comrade could react, Xelha had spun her wand into an upwards swing that got him in the chin. With a precise strike at the one already on the ground, she bought herself a few minutes to regroup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breathe,” she whispered to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once calm, she glanced around the room to see if there was any rope to bind them with. However, not only was there nothing useful for such purposes—a pair of thin, decorative carpets were the closest thing she could find—she had severely undershot her entry point, instead coming in through Rodolfo’s study.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards were already stirring. She’d found her way into what had to be the most heavily guarded area of the manor. She’d ruined her mission before she even found Kalas. Spurred by pained groans and a rising sense of dread, she burst through the half-open doors, wings flared, wand at the ready, and mana gathered in preparation of signaling Melodia early.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>FIRAGA BURST!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” cried Xelha, unleashing the mighty explosion at the first figure she saw. To her dismay, Lord Rodolfo was flung down a short flight of stairs, though at least he was spared the fate of the place where he’d been standing moments before—the floor, ceiling, and walls had been obliterated, small fires eating away at the untouched wood and carpets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t have time to think. Flitting forward—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—she barely had time to bring up her wand to redirect a dagger’s path from her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gasping, Xelha veered right, just in time to avoid the second knife. She wheeled about to get her bearings, barely able to dodge a small projectile that issued from the blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Reev kkoz zku voz ltobbul as!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman, clearly Al Zhani, looked the part of an assassin. She was certainly fast enough, pummeling Xelha with a seemingly endless barrage of nigh-unavoidable attacks. Punches, kicks, slashes, stabs, shots—what should have been an undisciplined jumble was a seamless, unpredictable martial art in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the while, Rodolfo screamed, “What is the meaning of this?! Giacomo said there would be no trouble! Hey! Can you understand me?!” It was a small blessing that he was content to stay out of the battle, occasionally backing away from the growing flames on stuttering pigeon wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha managed to disengage long enough to gather some of her small mana reserve. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>HOLY FLARE!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without checking to make sure the distraction had worked, she darted below her opponent’s grasping arms to fly to safety--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--only to be jerked back into the fray by a blade from behind, which sunk into the front of her left shoulder like a hook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ruofasb the thees?</span>” taunted the other woman, “<span>Osl A zkeybkz sezkth kutu ltoks ze nrosuth!” Laughing, she tore her knife free on the horizontal, spinning it around a finger. “<span> Kke otu aey osakoa? Les'z zurr su aey'tu kutu net Kalas, zku Usdutet’th duz thyssesut?</span>”</span>
</span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Kalas’? She must be involved in his capture!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xelha realized, clutching at the wound. She felt a brush of panic at how heavily she was bleeding and the unresponsiveness of her arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey bez voy—</span>“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wind Blow!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spell blew her adversary into the burning wall, but otherwise had little effect on her. Left with no time to drink a potion, she willed her fraying focus to cast again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Chr-Chronos… Blow!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman’s eyes widened. “<span>Thes en o—</span>“ She managed to duck away quick enough to evade the full effects of the magic, though it still clipped her in the shoulder, sending her spinning out of control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha took the opportunity to gulp down a potion and an ether, grimacing at the mixed aftertaste of bitter herbs and caramel. Pushing aside her disgust, she reached into her heart and called upon Shiva.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The goddess came on a frigid wind, ice crystals coalescing into a female figure of icy aquamarine skin. A single lock of hair framed her brow, the rest pulled back into her crescent-shaped headdress, from which trailed a sheen of frost. It disappeared into the jagged crystal train of her intricately jeweled, turquoise gown. The large opal just below her bodice glowed, releasing a frosty mist that doused the flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only when the immediate threat had vanished did Shiva turn her head in acknowledgment of Xelha’s presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Child. Ought you not have called upon us sooner?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother,” whispered Xelha, contrite.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>You have strayed from your path, O Ice Queen, and risk Armageddon to save its very harbinger.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see my path before me and follow the duty etched in my body, heart, and mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>The White-Winged Darkness must not alight upon this land. It is well if the wretch should meet his end in this place. Your true journey beckons.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“The snows eternal have buried what you once knew of the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>As you say.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The aeon’s mien did not change, for all that she was displeased. Shiva’s head inclined to the barest degree. Casually raising a hand to her lips, she blew a storm of ice crystals towards Xelha’s forgotten adversary. Try though she might, even the assassin couldn’t outrun Shiva’s breath. She toppled to the floor below on malfunctioning winglets and didn’t get up.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Remember our words, Ice Queen.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always.” She nearly choked on her promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As quickly as she’d appeared, Shiva blew away mote by mote until Xelha was left alone with Rodolfo and a mixed squad of Al Fhard and Sadalian soldiers. They surrounded him, aiming their firearms in her direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffing up like a frightened cat, Rodolfo hissed, “I don’t care for this intrusion, Lady Summoner, nor will I tolerate the presence of a vow-breaker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment her heart stopped, thinking he had somehow heard Shiva’s voiceless words. Then she realized that he was referring to the expectations the main islands held for summoners. “I apologize for my intrusion, my lord,” she said, mechanically forming the Eye of the Whale, “My summoner went missing yesterday, and I heard rumors that he’d been taken here. I’m afraid that I couldn’t think straight in my panic.” Her left arm was worryingly numb and stiff, despite her quick consumption of the potion. Hopefully Melodia would arrive soon and make sure it had healed properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your summoner?” he snorted, “Don’t you mean your guardian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, my lord, not at all.” Seeing his interest, she deemed it safe to slowly descend onto the floor in front of him. The guards bristled but were waved off. Taking heart, she continued, “Though I’m a summoner myself, I believe Summoner Kalas is our greatest hope for defeating Sin. I’m honored to serve as his guardian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolfo paused. His eyes narrowed. His lips pursed. “A… summoner guarding another summoner?” He sounded hoarse, no doubt alarmed by the implied power of the prisoner he’d been complicit in jailing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. May I continue on my way? I promise we won’t be long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… yes, yes, that’s for the best.” The headache twitching at his brow was convincing for all that his words were not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha decided to go while the going was good, bowing before sweeping gracefully past the nervous guards, making sure to nod to each and every one as she passed by. As she’d hoped, they relaxed as they caught sight of her kindly smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>One moment Kalas was yet again correcting his grip, the next all of his painstaking work was totally erased by an explosion that jarred the inkwell onto its side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your guardians, I assume,” commented Giacomo irritably, leather creaking as he rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be thinking I’m going to give you any hints on beating them,” Kalas sneered back. Giacomo was out the door before he’d even finished his sentence. “Good riddance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his so-called father gone, it gave him another chance to free himself, and this time he didn’t waste it. With a few kicks and swings of his makeshift sledgehammer, he broke into the next room. As he’d been warned, the door was locked—not that it mattered once he kicked it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exiting the guestroom was like entering another world. Almost directly to his right was a mass of stone and broken boards, beyond which he could hear the telltale sounds of Melodia and Giacomo in combat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Overdoing it again, huh, Melodia?” he groaned, wondering where his other overzealous guardian had moseyed off to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, more importantly, where Larikush was being kept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Left with only one option (at least if he ignored the sensible decision of breaking a window in the confusion and escaping), Kalas turned and headed up the stairs to his left. The hallway widened above, leading to a door to his left and a continuation of the stairs. When the door’s handle easily turned, he abandoned it, as a traitor of Larikush’s caliber was bound to be much more heavily guarded than Kalas himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stairs were blocked off by two suits of armor. Eyeing it suspiciously, Kalas took a few cautious steps, only to leap back as they swung their swords to behead the intruder.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is it alright</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He kicked the nearest armor lightly. Far too solid for him to knock over. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess I should backtrack to see if there’s a convenient solution lying around.</span>
  </em>
  <span> At least he had an idea of where to start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room he passed before turned out to be a kitchen. The occupants, no doubt in response to the almost comical sounds of violence outside, were huddled behind the island that ran down the middle of the room, peeking up over the counter when they heard the door open. Kalas strolled in as casually as possible to disguise the fact that his hands were bound, though it appeared to be unnecessary given how skittish they were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just stay out of my way and I won’t have to hurt you, got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satisfied that no one would try to stop him, he helped himself to some of the food on the counter and one of several milk tins, which he rolled out the door. Soon he was crawling past the barrier through a hole made by one of the swords getting caught on the tin. As an added bonus, he could almost hear Rodolfo crying about the future milk stains dribbling their way towards the floor. The lord would be lucky if, when this was all over, Kalas didn’t break back into the manor and collect reparations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Qua, aey!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d reached the top of the stairs, exited onto a veranda, and found a world of trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof!” he cried when the first of three guards tackled him. Although he knew it was pointless, he struggled until he was fully pinned to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Heyrl zqak ju zqu owkesakz?</span>” asked the first. He sounded like the personification of an itchy trigger finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Alaez, les'z aey wuhepsafu zqu Labasu Hqarl?</span>” snapped the one who had him in a headlock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Koaz, zqak ak qas?! Ruz qas yt wapqz sek!</span>” He couldn’t understand them, but the first to attack him seemed to have a change of heart, shoving at the second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third put a stop to it with a single word. “<span>Sosohruk!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas gave a half-hearted squirm but the chance had slipped away. His hands were cuffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Qak sasl kok terryzul ja zqu zwoazewk kqe pobu qas ranu</span>,” she continued, “<span>Ruz’k tyz qas es zqu kqat—Larikush soa ju zquwu jyz ku hos'z wakh rekasp qas opoas.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever she’d said, the other two clearly agreed, dragging him to the end of the attached dock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you better not even think of throwing me off here—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second guard barked out a command and the illusion of sky melted away to reveal steps leading onto the battleship </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She then nudged him forward with the butt of her rifle until he was safely below deck. There they hustled him down the gleaming golden catwalk into the next room, which continued into a u-shaped walkway. However, their destination proved to be a door straight ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grandpapa!” He didn’t even mind getting shoved so he fell flat on his stomach, the door slamming closed behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Sa razzru thzotrasb!</span>” Larikush pulled Kalas to his feet and into his arms, squeezing him with all his strength. “How I’ve missed you all these years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hair stroking, warm arms, and a scent that was equal parts machina gas and dried herbs—his papa was exactly as he remembered him. Kalas didn’t bother to stop his eyes from tearing up, instead burying his face into his lowered hood in lieu of the tight hug he wished he could return. For a moment he was transported back to the old days, when they lived a carefree life in the Celestial Alps. Day in, day out, tending the caplins, rocking in front of the fire, hiding in the nooks and crannies of the cottage. He’d nearly forgotten them under the weight of his misery in Balancoire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Kalas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Giacomo called himself my dad again,” he whined playfully, finding the humor in it again now that he’d purged his emotional distress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush tutted and drew back, though his hands remained in contact with Kalas’ shoulders. “You remember what Georg and I told you all those years ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That Giacomo’s a loser and I should ignore him?” he said, grinning at his grandpapa’s sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In any case, your family is who you choose it to be,” continued Larikush. His hands lifted to grasp Kalas’ jaw and thumb his cheeks. “Georg may still consider Giacomo his son, but that doesn’t mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to accept him as your father.” He sighed and turned away, returning to his place on one of the beds and patting the mattress next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Practically flying the three steps to the bed, Kalas sat and leaned against Larikush’s shoulders, smiling softly to himself. Larikush shifted his arm to wrap around him and hold him snug and secure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry to change the subject, but I noticed you’ve become a summoner.” From his grave tone, Kalas guessed that he disapproved of the attention the role would garner. “And that summon… Ar, was it? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas laughed, hoping that his papa wouldn’t catch how fake it was. “Yeah, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of summons you’ll find in out of the way places.” The last thing he wanted was for Larikush to keep digging—or worse, get involved with his plan—so he swallowed his desire to ask for advice and said, “Don’t worry, Papa, I’m being careful. I just… I need to defeat Sin. For Fee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully Larikush was graceful enough both to let his little white lie slide and not enquire into the fate of his conspicuously absent youngest. Instead he lay his head on top of Kalas’ and murmured, “…If this is really what you want, I’d like to be one of your guardians.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His blood froze. “G-Grandpapa, what do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The danger of losing his remaining family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not as young as you used to be, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The danger his loved ones posed to his plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides, I already have two really powerful guardians. And Melodia can heal, too, so it’s… not like….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He withered under the Look of Utmost Parental Concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Yes, Papa.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is going to be much more difficult than planned</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Xelha noted in near despair as she spun to avoid the Al Fhard’s scythe. The move backed her into a jutting floorboard, tripping her just in time to miss another swipe. She rolled away from the wall and scuttled backwards along one of the few sturdy beams left until she could regain her footing, holding back a scream as she jostled her injured arm. From there she had to leap from one protrusion to the next, unable to stand still long enough to focus on a spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another summoner?” the man mused as he tore through the vertical boards, “I don’t recognize your clothes. What island did you come from, girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I….” She had an idea. “I came from the Earth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she’d hoped, he was amused and startled enough by her ridiculous answer that she was able to maneuver out of his reach. More agile than him by far, she was able to dodge his every move with ease until she was far enough away to fight back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What moisture was left in the hot and dusty air surged eagerly towards its mistress, forming glowing orbs at the ends of her wand. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aquara—</span>
  </em>
  <span>“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha was cut off mid-spell by the sudden reappearance of her earlier opponent, who rocketed upwards through the broken floor on her winglets. Together they crashed into the ceiling, the pockets of water bursting as her magic backfired—a blessing in disguise, as they cushioned her from most of the damage from the surprise attack. They toppled apart, the assassin thudding into her comrade’s arms, Xelha belly-flopping onto an alarmingly creaky beam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Giacomo… kozvk zkath esu….</span>” The Al Zhani managed to gasp before swooning. The man’s eyes darkened. He slowly placed her on solid ground and strode to where Xelha was still struggling to lift herself up and catch her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With deceptive congeniality he commended her, “Not many have the skill to beat Ayme. I would be interested in learning more, Lady Summoner of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Earth</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He reached down and lifted her bodily off of her perch by the throat, his hands carefully avoiding her windpipe. “It would be my pleasure if you would join us aboard the </span><em><span>Goldoba</span></em><span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha gasped and scrabbled for freedom to no avail; she was a moth caught in the claws of a scorpion. Just before her vision could be completely conquered by the despairing darkness besmirching her heart, a different kind of darkness appeared in the form of a rapidly swelling purple orb that crackled with red energy. As it grew, it darkened and released red spore-like motes that blackened and vanished like smoke. The energy rushed upwards into a pillar and summoned a wall of shadow that encompassed both her and her attacker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was dropped as it crackled away, the Al Fhard shoving her off the beam as he clutched his stomach. “You… again….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small, grounded cyclone was the only warning before a great downward slash of light exploded into him, sending him into and through the opposite wall. Luckily for him, the next room was for housing guests, giving him a bed to soften his plunge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where he’d stood mere seconds ago was now occupied by Melodia, light fading from the point of her shield that extended past her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It pleases me to see you looking so well, Xelha~♥~” she smiled, helping her to her feet, “I was worried when you signaled me so soon. Although….” Melodia trailed off, beckoning her healing magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cure Stream!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The relief was immediate, though the pain in her arm had transformed into an unsettling numbness. “Thank you.” She didn’t have time to catch up, however, as their enemy rose and plodded his way back to the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than continue the fight, he merely stooped to pick up Ayme and flew away with her in his arms, calling over his shoulder, “Well-played, guardians—the day is yours. Savor it while you still can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was difficult to let him walk away, but further battle would undoubtedly lead to unacceptable casualties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her wounds healed, reunited with her fellow guardian, and the most powerful of the Al Fhard soldiers in retreat, Xelha turned to her twice-savior in awe and no small amount of wariness. “You’re trained in the ways of the dark blade….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, such arts are only dangerous to those who enter into them consumed by mortal arrogance,” said Melodia in a soothing fashion. She made the Eye of the Whale. “I would dearly like to explain further—oh, what lies are told about my holy discipline!—but we still haven’t found Kalas, and the Al Fhard are so very eager to claim him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the multitude of questions she had about the entire situation—dark arts and white magic? Kalas a target of the Al Fhard? Malpercio’s foul presence at the site of his capture?—she simply agreed and followed Melodia’s lead as she blasted the wreckage out of her way to reveal the second half of the hallway. Following a quintessentially Kalas trail of odd stains, broken doors, terrified locals, and a decimated milk tin (whose purpose became simultaneously apparent and obsolete as she blasted the guard apparatuses with enough electricity to permanently disable them), they arrived at the veranda in time to see an Al Fhard airship lift off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can still make it!” Xelha argued, preparing her weary wings for a great leap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t look like we’ll need to.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The ship lurched wildly, knocking them both to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush clucked his tongue in disapproval. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> shouldn’t be handled so roughly. What is that boy thinking? Georg would be furious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is now really the time, Papa?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to worry,” he replied as he stood, somehow managing to walk steadily despite the shaking. He made his way to the corner to the right of the door, where he retrieved an ornate staff, “Long before I studied white magic, I, too, subscribed to the Al Fhard way of life. The Empire would do well to remember that in the future.” And then he twisted the top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The staff, unlike most of its ilk, was made of some sort of brass rather than natural materials or a light steel. Six rings jutted out about halfway down its length. The body was otherwise plain until the head, which flared into an intricate work of small cylinders, even smaller golden balls, and what appeared to be pearls of various colors, held in place by strings of bronze webbing, which met at the very top of the most important part of any staff or wand: the channeling piece. It was a perfectly round fire opal of black and red depths, the surface crackled with blazing oranges and piercing blues that flickered like stars whenever it moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, it appeared that Kalas had finally figured out where—or from whom—he had picked up the art of subterfuge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For while Georg continued to tinker and invent and spread his machina throughout Mira, Larikush had hidden his roots in the symbol of his new life. He unscrewed the top and, spinning the now-bare head to the ground, did the same to a nigh invisible cap on the butt. Slipping it somewhere into his robes, he replaced it with the fixture that Kalas could now recognize as a magazine hiding in plain sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Kalas,” he began, planting the absurd rifle on his shoulder and aiming at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” he groaned back, “Cover my ears, take cover, don’t play with guns.” Kalas rolled his eyes and his body under the nearest bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me, Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Disguising it as a staff required me to forego most of the safety features. It requires careful control not to injure oneself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said ‘fine’!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the cutting edge of Georg’s research into magitechnology—it may not look like much, but it’s quite deadly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t touch you and Gramps’ shiny toy. Happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His only reply was a gentle reminder to protect his eardrums, which Kalas accomplished with a pillow since his hands were still bound. After he called his compliance, Larikush pulled the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KRCH-KLANG KRCH-KLANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kalas emerged, his hooded grandpapa was motioning him through the space once occupied by a door, which had been blown off its hinges. Pausing only to point out the presumably noise-cancelling earmuffs he wore under the hood, Larikush fired upon the frantic Al Fhard approaching them, though he avoided the vitals. He wasn’t a fantastic shot but he was competent enough to blaze the way back to the deck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo, of course, was between them and freedom. “<span>Larikush—! A sapqz qobu hseks!</span>” He made to hand a prone Ayme to the nearest peon, who was already burdened with a full-to-bursting bag that held, among other things, Kalas’ own ‘staff’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could do anything more, Larikush had swung his gun into a casting stance. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy Flare!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo bent to shield Ayme from the burst of searing light and crumpled to the deck. Kalas was already moving, tackling the soldier with the bag in a heartwing dash that shot them over the railing. He easily overpowered the other’s basic winglet with the mightier wings on his back, slamming them into the hull until they let go. Luckily, he managed to catch the bag behind his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier tumbled for a bit before getting their bearings, but before they could even try to recapture him, a bolt of lightning struck and fried their winglets, sending them plummeting to the ground. Kalas cast about to locate the mage, who turned out to be Xelha. She and Melodia beckoned from the balcony. Moments later, he caught sight of the lacy mantis wings of Larikush, blue and pink and green with a large yellow eyespot. It spurred him onward, leading the way to his other guardians, who he let handle any who dared follow them in a flurry of dark magic and wind spells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he landed, he turned to give Melodia access to his manacles. “Papa, this is Melodia and Xelha, my guardians.” He nodded to each in turn as he flexed circulation back into his wrists. Then he turned his attention back to the bag. “Time to collect the loot,” he snickered, first claiming his staff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other contents were <span>another Al Fhard primer</span>, various sundries, a pile of magnus coupons (that turned out to be expired, to his disgust), some mountain apples (most of which hadn’t rotted yet), and a number of knick-knacks clearly acquired from the burgeoning tourist industry. Feeling nauseous, he dumped everything except the ripe apples, the primer, and the more useful of the supplies on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you make me pity you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought viciously, unable to stop himself from imagining the family that would never get their souvenirs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he’d been busy, the introductions had continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia and Xelha? I’m Larikush, one of Kalas’ grandfathers,” he started nodding to each and smiling, “As you can imagine, I have a vested interest in keeping my grandson safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes, of course!” said Xelha as she blasted away their final pursuer and twirled her wand into the safety of her sash. “A-although….” She glanced worriedly at Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia gave that creepy laugh that hooked everyone into her web. “Not to worry, my dear—the arts of light and darkness aren’t nearly as hostile to each other as many believe. With another healer, I can be free to use more powerful techniques. A red mage’s spells aren’t so reliable that it will fulfill our needs for this entire journey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A dark knight?” commented Larikush. A musing glance passed between him and Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas narrowed his eyes. He’d have to watch that. Assuming Melodia didn’t take things into her own hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to do it myself, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he resolved</span>
  <em>
    <span>, If Melodia decides that Papa is a threat, she’ll— …I can’t let that happen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Cutting through the middle of the group, Kalas swaggered towards the door. “Well, while you guys are burning daylight….” He let the sentence meaningfully, rubbing his wrists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not extort money on my watch, boy, no matter what part Lord Rodolfo played in your capture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Yes, Papa.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 3/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 1/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. In Which a Man Is Worth a Nation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should be resting. You spent a lot of energy today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha started and turned to see the only other passenger in the lounge of the fair-sized passenger ship they’d boarded immediately after leaving the manor in a hurry. Most likely the only other passenger awake at the late hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. I needed to clear my head—so much has happened, I wasn’t able to fall asleep.” She was tempted to mention her arm—the range of movement was less that it had been and was accompanied by a tingling sensation—to the doctor, but she didn’t want to trouble the man so soon after he regained his freedom. As Melodia had already seen to it, it was most likely a minor strain picked up the previous day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush closed his book and offered her the other end of the couch he was seated on. From the coffee table it was paired with he lifted a small kettle and spare cup from a set tray. “Warm milk with honey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” she said gratefully, folding into her seat. Accepting the rose-patterned teacup, she took a long draught and sighed in bliss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After topping off both of their cups, he settled cross-legged to face her. “Now then, would you like to tell me what you are worried about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s….” She bought time to think of a response by taking another sip. Making her decision, she set it back in its saucer and placed it on the table, lacing her fingers together and resting them atop her knees. “I can’t give you any details, but your grandson is in grave danger from an ancient evil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could say more, but… it’s not something I’m allowed to speak of with outsiders.” Too late she realized her slip, hand reflexively moving to catch the words before they could reach his ears. “I—that is, my family has passed down legends of a white-winged darkness, and—“ Shiva surged within her, greedy with her secrets. “…I can say no more.” Already she could feel her soul frosting over. Punishment for speaking out of turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remained quiet, wordlessly sipping his milk. Finally, head bowed, he said, “So even a stranger can see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t believe her ears. “You mean… you were aware?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up, down, left, right—she subtly glanced for an escape route. If she could just make it back to their quarters, Larikush would hopefully drop the subject and she would have more time to decide if he needed to be silenced. The thought of murdering Kalas’ grandfather chilled her more than Shiva’s ice ever could, but she was already gambling away the prayers of the uncountable dead on the scion of Malpercio—she couldn’t justify allowing access to Kalas to someone who was, at best, indifferent to the dark path he was enamored with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, too, have things I won’t speak of,” he continued evenly, though it was clear he was aware of the danger he was in, “Kalas should be the first to hear what I know… though I don’t imagine he’ll be receptive to it.” Under his breath he sighed, “Georg, this was supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Georg?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas’ other grandfather.” Larikush’s smile was one of exasperated fondness. “A brilliant engineer and devoted to his loved ones, but unskilled in the intricacies of social interaction.” He huffed out a laugh. “I suppose I’m no better, reentering Kalas’ life and expecting things to be the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha, comforted by his easy admission of his faults, leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. “I’ve only known him for a few days, but I’ve never seen Kalas happier. No matter how long it’s been, he loves you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding teary-eyed gratitude for her reassurance, he nonetheless teased, “You’ve gotten to know him rather well for having met him so recently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blushed and squawked out an embarrassed denial. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, between her kneejerk homicidal urges, seemingly spontaneous devotion to his grandson, and their mutual crypticism, they chortled at the absurdity of the situation. Larikush raised his cup, Xelha echoing the gesture. The melting tension between them, no match for their mutually mellow temperaments, broke completely when they brought their cups together into a clink. They made idle small talk until the kettle had been fully drained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My apologies,” sighed Larikush, gathering the china together, “I hadn’t expected company. If you’d like, I will prepare a larger batch next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “No, I’m the one who intruded. I would enjoy doing this again though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any requests?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milk or tea is fine.” Thinking of the future brew sparked her memory. “Oh! That house we stayed in—by the temple?—it must have been yours!” She gave him her warmest smile. “You see? Even though you weren’t around, you still provided for him. It wasn’t time wasted.” To prove her point, she released one of the potions she’d helped make from a magnus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush accepted it and, like the master he was, examined it from all angles. He held it up to the light, uncorked it to smell the fumes, and finally tilted it back to swallow a few drops. “Impressive. I take it you added the final ingredients?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I was impressed myself—most people don’t know to cool the cauldron quickly. At least, that was what I was lead to believe.” Xelha sealed the potion back into storage and lifted the tray. She’d taken a couple of steps before she realized he hadn’t moved. Turning back, she called, “Larikush?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His deliberation over his next words betrayed by the uneasy look on his face, Larikush spoke with the barest of tremors. “You… saw the device, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” It took her a few moments to connect the dots. “Oh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, when she stepped in closer, she was able to faintly see the pattern of his pupil. Wordlessly asking permission, she moved yet closer, till their faces were a mere hand length apart. Though his eyes were dark enough to be called black, at that distance she could make out the clockwise spiral of his pupil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re an Al Zhani?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. “You seem remarkably unperturbed to be meeting a born heretic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…,” she trailed off, fulling intending to make an excuse. But then the pleasantness of the evening and the secrets they’d already spoken around infused her with a bold whimsy. “My family practices a Yevon that was forgotten by most. I’m scared of what the Empire might do, but not because of her people.” She shifted one end of the tray to rest on her hip in order to free a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling faintly, he grasped it with both hands, gratitude bleeding through the firm grip. “You’re a rare one, Xelha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood for a while, basking in the sense of camaraderie, understanding, and having found a true confidant.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The next time Kalas awoke was much more pleasant than the last. A real (albeit cramped) bed, his loyal (albeit unpredictable) guardians at hand, and his father of neither blood nor choice far, far away from him (albeit not of his own hand, which continued to rankle him). Though he still ended up sleeping on the floor, it was entirely due to tossing himself onto it thanks to a particularly vivid nightmare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brushing a dust bunny away from his nose, he yawned, stretched, and, too awake to blow the day off in bed, made his way to the dining facilities. When he saw that the others were already there, he made a show of being half-awake—stumbling, blinking, the whole works. His grandpapa didn’t buy it, but the performance wasn’t for him anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one thing to work with Melodia. It was another to fully trust her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re up early, sleepyhead~♥~” she teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they’d first met that awful, awful night, her sweetness hadn’t seemed so cloying. An angel, a savior she’d been. Giving his life meaning beyond the inexorable memory of Fee, she had been his entire world. A moonlit harbinger of the purification of Yevon. A sprite from whom the darkness shied. He’d fancied himself in love with her once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He disguised his snort as a snuffle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia was no savior or angel or any being who could be named to possess the slightest sliver of goodness; she was a silver-wrought demon bestowing malignant blessings, an imp who drank the bespoiled nectar of a wicked god and let it flow from her mouth to the ears of her victims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to admit that he became much fonder of her once he saw the true Melodia: a masterful manipulator the likes of which he had to play at the poet to properly describe. If she could read his thoughts, she would probably be hysterical with laughter at how much time he spent analyzing her, and not just in his usual manner of pessimistic opportunism. In his defense, she was more like a work of art than a human. He could almost imagine her as a porcelain doll that had sprung to life one day, intent on world destruction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you go to bed last night, Kalas?” asked Larikush. In the mere seconds since Kalas arrived, he’d scraped together a plate of traditional Sadalian breakfast foods: a small bowl of curds, a brown soda bread bun, and a bean paste spread mixed with ground pow. Between him and Georg, Larikush had always been the homemaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Papa,” he groaned with fake grumpiness. Back for less than a day and he was already falling into his old patterns of parental fussing. And Kalas was loving every minute of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha, seeing his (mostly faked) drowsiness, reached to the left for the pitcher of spiced cider resting next to Melodia. Halfway there she hesitated, then stood up and picked it with her right hand, pouring him a glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is she hurt? But neither of them mentioned an injury, and Melodia would’ve taken care of it by now. Maybe she bumped into something and got bruised.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wasn’t quite convinced but Xelha was meeting his eyes, so he accepted the drink with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked at the hint of heat as it went down. “Hard cider at breakfast?” He shot a look at Melodia that was equal parts respect and judgment. She, of course, preened innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A local custom,” confirmed Larikush, “Liqueur made of distilled beets is added to the first beverage of the day to start work with a spark of warmth. You needn’t worry about intoxication—the alcohol content is very low.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’First beverage of the day’? So what happens when the local lush—“ His grandpapa’s glare could shoot the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of the sky. “Yes, Papa,” he sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say anything,” said Larikush, serenely stirring honey into his tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying, it’s pretty weird to be drinking first thing in the morning.” No one commented, so he sat in his place between Larikush and Melodia, Xelha looking vaguely concerned in the seat across from him. “Yeesh, you really worry a lot, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently not about their conversation, for she broke her stare into the middle distance to exclaim, “Huh?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though her reaction most likely meant that it wasn’t the drink she was worried about, he decided to continue just in case. “It’s not like I’m mad at you or anything. It’s just booze.” That he wasn’t old enough to legally drink, but he wasn’t about to spit in the face of custom. At least, not one as convenient as that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! I’m glad to hear that!” Xelha cried with a confused smile before abruptly changing the subject, “By the way, did the captain say how long it would take to get to Diadem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush replied, “We’ll arrive tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The news was a huge relief to Kalas, who was looking forward to having a justification ready for ditching his guardians. He could already tell that Xelha was the same as Larikush and Melodia: overprotective and nosy. Which wouldn’t be so bad if he trusted her. He wanted to get reacquainted with Larikush too, but doing so would mean acknowledging everything that had happened since he left. He loved his grandpapa, he really did, but with the whirlwind of grief, vengefulness, scrupulosity, and profane resignation that filled his mind, as well as and the part of him that resented Larikush’s absence, he needed time alone to sort his feelings out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sort them out so he could plan his next move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>However</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” continued Larikush, “given what happened on Sadal Suud, I think it’s for the best—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—if I learn Al Fhard,” Kalas finished in a whine, “Fine, but don’t tell Giacomo. He’s been trying to teach me for years.” He’d even run into him once while running an errand in the Endmost Bethel and been roped into an impromptu lesson. Fortunately, Giacomo had had business to take care of that even he wouldn’t force a child to witness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush chuckled. “I won’t say a word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the fun in that?~♥~” Melodia giggled, setting her spoon down in her empty yogurt saucer, “As long as he insists on tormenting poor Kalas, why not trick him into saying nice things about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha piped up again. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that. Why…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without looking up, he knew that Larikush had also glanced away. Melodia answered blithely with the story he’d made up for her about having an Al Fhard ancestor who gave him deeply devoted cousins. He could feel Larikush’s amused stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Xelha began asking questions about his supposed ancestor’s love life, the other two abandoned him to his fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas, wishing he’d stayed in bed after all, proceeded to choke on curds just to get away from the conversation.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Ze ju.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ze… ju.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha would have loved to stay and learn, but it wouldn’t do to attract more suspicion on top of her vague homeland, lest someone decide she was working with the Empire of the Heretics. And so she turned away from the side-by-side <span>Al Fhard</span> and <span>Al Zhani primers</span> that Larikush had somehow found, just in time to see another passenger dart away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She considered it. While she had no proof that the figure had been spying on them, it could be potentially disastrous if he thought that their pilgrimage was a front for Al Fhard activity. Furthermore, with two of her companions occupied and the other having excused herself to their room for some private matter, she had a great deal of spare time and nothing to fill it but Shiva’s frustrated mutterings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so she slipped out of the room and followed the flapping canvas cloak and subtle perfume through the small gathering of passengers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it wasn’t a terribly large vessel, she wasn’t surprised when the chase ended almost immediately with the stranger slipping out onto the deck. He leaned against the railing until she was mere steps away, then jumped in his skin and turned to face her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it mattered, given that he was completely covered, save for the places where skin showed through black archery gloves. It was a warm brown, lighter than Larikush but still darker than Kalas. The cloak, which was so long as to hit the ground, had not the hood she’d thought but a full-on head covering that bunched just below the shoulders. A pair of amber goggles were set into it. Attached to them was an odd contraption: a circle of glass, much like the scope of a firearm-type machina, hung in front, connected by a metal arm sticking out of the side, its elbow pointing skyward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though that was easily the strangest part of his dress, the rest was similarly out of place. He wore a knee-length black coat—unbuttoned midway down his torso—with a single golden pauldron, from which jutted out three pegs. The only other armor she could see were a pair of leather vambraces and knee boots. He also wore two sets of suspenders: one vertically over the coat, which attached to a belt—that on closer inspection proved to be part of a holster, though for what she couldn’t say—and a crisscrossed pair that could be seen underneath it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” greeted the man, voice muffled through the fabric, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I was just surprised to see a summoner learning Al Fhard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When in doubt, trust your fellows,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xelha scolded herself, before replying, “Good morning to you too. May I join you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gesturing his consent, the man returned to the rail. “Sadal Suud is a lovely island, isn’t it? The swaying wheat, the singing birds….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, yeah,” she agreed absently, slowly lifting herself to sit on the railing, “It’s very peaceful. I’ve heard that Sin hardly ever attacks it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Hardly ever’ was a bit of an exaggeration, in that it made the attacks sound more frequent than they truly were. Sadal Suud had only been targeted a handful of times in the millennium since Sin first appeared, perhaps due to the slow, rural lifestyle and low population. Each time it was attacked was as a result of large waves of emigration from the more populous lands, mostly Diadem. The world leaders had eventually been forced to close its borders to those seeking permanent residence in order to ensure that, no matter the destruction caused by Sin, there would always be a surplus of food available worldwide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, the nature of the floating continents and their tendency to drift limited the damage Sin was able to do. It was mostly large cargo ships that had the misfortune of meeting it. Cargo ships and the personal transports of summoners attempting to land on Anuenue, the most frequently attacked nation of all. The magic shield of the Fairy Guide, strengthened by generations of Wazn’s greatest, was the only thing standing between its inhabitants and meaningless death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a shame that an outsider like me wouldn’t be able to stay here. It’s the sort of place my mother would enjoy. We could pick bushels of apples and roast them in honey…,” he trailed off wistfully, “Goodness, I’m being rude! Please forgive me, Miss…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha. I’m a guardian to Summoner Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Xelha. It’s a pleasure!” He made a gallant bow. “My name is Guillo. I wish you fortune on your journey! I… have heard that there have been many incidents of Al Fhard attacking summoners since Sin reappeared. I hope you haven’t had any trouble?” Though she couldn’t see his face, Guillo’s earnestness shone through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As pleasant as he was, however, answering honestly was a bad idea. “Yes, I heard the same. We’ve been lucky so far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence stretched between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought, niggling at the back of Xelha’s mind, finally managed to claw its way to the front in the absence of distracting niceties. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Guillo’? Where have I heard that name before?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>So quickly we forget our lessons, Ice Queen.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha gasped at the intrusion. Excusing it to Guillo as a shock of cold, she sunk her attention into the recesses of her soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So I’m not just imagining things? Guillo is a name from our history?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Seginus, Syrma, Dubhe, and Guillo—the puppets of wizards past.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Godcraft,” she breathed aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo raised a hand in concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Impossible.” Her eyes shot wide, nostrils flared. In an instant she knew, with a certainty she had never felt before, that she was the final Ice Queen. As much as she longed to deny it, there was no mistaking the stranger’s form, so like that of the ancient murals. And so she screwed up her nerve and intoned, “M-may time, ever fleeting, forgive us….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Xelha?” he asked, body poised hesitantly, as if unsure whether to offer help or alert her companions to her odd behavior, “Is everything alright? If you’d like for me to leave you alone…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She breathed out, nerves rattled. It had been 1000 years. Just as the witches of Wazn and the Celestial Tree and the forces suspending Hassaleh had all but withered into nothing, so must the godcraft have suffered as well. Perhaps his long slumber had disrupted his memory. Regardless, it was not yet time for her to reenact the final moments of her legendary ancestor. She would let Guillo regain strength, trusting that he would remember his purpose as he did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laying a hand on his shoulder, she whispered faintly, “No… I’m okay. I think I’ll go lie down. Guillo… when the time is right, meet me before Sin. You’ll know what to do.” She patted him once, nodded, and turned to take her leave. Behind her she heard his sounds of confusion but lacked the resolve to address it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trip to their cabin felt long, thanks to the numbing weariness of her remembered burden. She blamed that for her forgetfulness in regards to the room’s occupation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened to Melodia kneeling in front of a bowl of water, the windows closed off in such a manner that but one beam came through, illuminating it. Although Xelha didn’t recognize the technique, it was clearly a form of water divination. Melodia held a handful of dried leaves, one of which she dropped into the bowl just as Xelha entered. It dissolved into a blood-red splotch with barely a ripple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment she appeared to give a condescending smirk, but it proved to be a trick of the light. “Ah, I should have known a witch of your caliber couldn’t resist having a peek.” The leaves disappeared into a velvet bag, which was secured under her skirt. “Not to worry—I’ve already completed the ritual. Our next aeon is at the Shrine of the Winds on Diadem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… what…?” Foreboding crawled up Xelha’s spine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Had</span>
  </em>
  <span> it been a trick? “How did—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—I know?” The friendly smile, usually so charming, had a sadistic edge to it. “Oh, Xelha, there are yet those who remember the witches of Wazn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slipped closed behind her, though she barely noticed with Melodia stalking forward. Reaching for her wand, it was knocked away as soon as it came to hand by a blast of dark magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?!” she cried, struggling to contain Shiva and the devastation she would unleash, “Are you responsible for Malpercio’s taint in Pherkad?!” A great and terrible power surrounded her, squeezing like a giant hand wrapped around a cheap doll and dragging her to her knees. Her injured arm screamed at the further damage it was subjected to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t make a sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia continued blithely forward, tilting Xelha’s chin up with a single perfectly manicured finger. Her eyes burned red. “You’re not just any witch, are you? You’re the Ice Queen herself. Quite the catch has thrown itself into my hands.” She tilted her head, eyes closing in a slow blink. “I wonder what would happen to the ocean if you were to die here and now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her other hand lifted with one finger extended, a hateful energy crackling across the nail. It parted Xelha’s bangs and dug slightly into her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood dribbled from the wound into Xelha’s eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha awoke to a pounding headache, Larikush’s face, and the distinct feeling that she had an urgent task to attend to. “What… happened…?” she moaned, letting herself be helped into a sitting position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t remember?” he asked, lips pursing, “Kalas found you collapsed outside the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I see….” The explanation felt accurate, though it didn’t explain why she couldn’t remember anything that had happened since breakfast. She mentioned the memory issue to the doctor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and proposed that she had incurred some sort of memory loss from the injury. He seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before they could discuss it further, she heard Kalas pipe up from behind her, “Papa? Xelha looks tired. Maybe if we let it sit it’ll come back to her later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, perhaps that is for the best,” agreed Larikush reluctantly, “How do you feel about that, Xelha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For lack of a better idea, she nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mother, how did this happen?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva was silent for a dreadful moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Our mind is clouded, veiled by the wicked god’s poison. Heed our warnings, and cease your accompaniment of his spawn!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice sounded farther away, as if the aforementioned veil were a physical entity imposed between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She barely heard Larikush as he said something about fetching water. Instead she let her body sink back down to rest, tilting her head back and staring at her summoner through thin slits of eyes. He appeared uncharacteristically on edge, a sharp contrast to the ever-serene Melodia standing behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pleased to see you awake--I was so worried when I saw you in that state! If you’re feeling faint, you should have taken a rest. The past few days have been terribly distressing for us all,” she scolded, laying a cold hand on her forehead, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cure Stream!</span>
  </em>
  <span> There, all better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The headache was gone at least. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?” Kalas’ voice had gone flat. Although his face was schooled into an expression of apathy, his true feelings were more obvious than she’d ever seen them, even within her dreams. “If you can’t handle a little excitement, it might be time to quit this guardian gig. Maybe settle down and make potions for a living.” She was startled to see guilt in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not too bright to force yourself to—Xelha?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling at the care he was showing in his own awkward way, her eyes slipped closed and she surrendered to fatigue.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He could feel Melodia’s displeasure boring into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She learned too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I arguing with you?” She didn’t have to reply for him to know she’d caught on to the dryness of his mouth. “If you’re worried I’m backing out, don’t be. I want this as much as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humming in reply, she circled around the bed to sit beside Xelha, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes with deceptive gentleness. “Your sympathy is misplaced, Kalas—this woman is the greatest living threat to Malpercio’s resurrection. Her… motivation for joining us, are you not curious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a trap. Not that it mattered; as much as he didn’t care to be made a pawn, he had been Melodia’s thrall since the day they met, a fact he’d gone to great lengths to never practice self-deceit in regards to. Xelha’s fate wasn’t his concern, and, in light of her incomprehensible decision to pledge herself to him in the first place, he was under no obligation to respect her privacy. She was a goody-two-shoes busybody who fell in with him out of pity. Pity, a misplaced sense of justice, and subpar character judgment. She didn’t matter at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An argument that would hold more weight had he not stayed Melodia’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So she has ulterior motives. Who cares?” he laughed with only marginally faked levity, “She doesn’t ask questions and she can mow down enemies like nobody’s business. Weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who wanted her along in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you felt her hands?” she asked abruptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted. “Do you always have to say things so creepily?” Still, he knew an order when he heard one. He touched Xelha’s hand as briefly as possible, which was still enough to notice what his mistress desired of him. “They’re as cold as ice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As befits a witch of Wazn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a moment to remember where he had heard the name before. “Wazn? That old fairytale? It really exists?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Kalas, you should know better than to dismiss half-forgotten legends,” Melodia purred back, gliding towards and past him, running a hand along his winglet as she went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, you can stop teasing me now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before their conversation could continue, Larikush reentered, announcing, “It seems we’ve arrived. Is Xelha…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Asleep,” he answered automatically, already lifting her for disembarking, “I thought there was still another hour left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush’s face was grim as he helped Melodia gather together their belongings. “That was when the scheduled stop was to take place in Sheliak—the Empire has launched a full-scale attack on Diadem since then. The captain has stated that the liner will stop in a small fishing village by the name of Nashira for just long enough to restock supplies, then turn back to Sadal Suud.” Possessions accounted for, he barred their exit with his arm. “Passengers have been forbidden from disembarking for their own safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Kalas let out a whoosh of air. “Hey, Melodia, is there a word for the opposite of a stowaway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For once she didn’t bother hiding the wickedness of her laugh. “’Unload-away’, perhaps?” Bounding gleefully across the room, she threw open their window. “If we go this way, the ship should block the view of anyone who would try to stop us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lolled his head to aim an exasperated look at his grandpapa, who, to his surprise, didn’t share it. “Aren’t you going to tell us off for being reckless?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, should I?” Larikush asked with genuine confusion, stroking his goatee, “Honestly, I’m just relieved that our arrival will have so little fanfare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he strode forward to join Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I guess I should’ve expected that from the guy who faked his death by explosion.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With both of his conscious companions all set to jump out of a moving ship—and he just knew that Xelha, if she was awake, would be as quick to agree to the plan—Kalas sighed and took his position. One by one they sprang out, unfurling their wings once they cleared the frame. They followed Melodia, who swooped below the liner into a cloud bank, most likely eager to hide her flashy pinions. An approaching dockhand forced Kalas to veer away before he could join the other two, herding him further down the walk. Lacking a better idea, he waited for an opening and flew up to land on the roof of what appeared to be a storage facility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just as well he did, for it allowed him to catch sight of another passenger sneaking off in much the same way. However, due to the cloaked figure’s small wings, which were clearly partially fused to his back, he had to stop and rest at every place that gave him a handhold. Almost immediately, a cry went up calling for his capture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing Xelha stir from the noise, he covered her mouth with a hand and rolled them away from the edge. Once the excitement died down, he let her go and crawled back to peek downwards. Though still staffed, the docking crew had become sparse and preoccupied with loading the supplies before more passengers jumped ship. Looking ahead, he caught sight of the others skimming the rooftops deeper in the village. As Xelha silently joined him, he nodded her attention in the right direction just in time to see them sink below the skyline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than wait for the Nashirans to leave, she crawled back out of sight and stood up, drawing her wand from her sleeve in an artful motion. She spun it in an almost beckoning gesture, bringing it towards her ear, down her body, and out, the motion seamlessly flowing into a slow twirl. As if performing a Sending, she began the purposeful steps of a dance, though the movements were different from any Sending he’d seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smooth, languid, controlled—each motion was brimming with power and sensuality. It lacked the pious gravitas of a ritual of Yevon, instead brimming with raw material energy, as if Xelha was just another one of Diadem’s infamous clouds. Fingers curling, wrists bending, hips rolling like the mist that clung to her—he could almost believe Melodia’s insistence that she was a witch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the mist </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> clinging, he realized; with each motion, the vapor was drawn to the bells on either end of her wand, and, with a flick of her wrist, their chime sent it spiraling down her arm. When he looked closer, he could see strange white orbs glowing amidst the stream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas stood up when he noticed a trickle of mist diverting in his direction. Within minutes he was fully enshrouded, unable to discern anything about his surroundings other than the direction his cover urged him to drift in. And so, equal parts unhappy at his lack of agency and eager to take advantage of an easy solution, he flared his wings and beat them as inconspicuously as possible. After an extended period of gliding downwards, dodging sharp corners, the cloud dispersed. He landed in an alley, reunited with his guardians.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I knew you were a powerful mage, Xelha, but I could never have guessed how much so!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, but you’re giving me too much credit,” she said with a blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense,” said Larikush as he returned her belongings to her, “I’ve never seen anything like it. And to manage it in your state, not to mention under duress….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’Duress’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He probably got us confused with that beetle-winged guy.” To the ones who weren’t there, he offhandedly explained, “One of the other passengers got the same idea as us, though they really didn’t think it through. I didn’t see all of what happened but I think he got away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More the pity. He’d spent too much of his life running from the Al Fhard to trust mysterious strangers who </span>
  <em>
    <span>just so happened </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be going in the same direction. Especially when that direction was over a closed border. The thought reminded him of their purpose. “Oh yeah, so we need to head towards Sheliak, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having already discussed the matter of the Shrine of Winds, Melodia’s confirmation was more to cover their butts on the off chance the non-heretics in their group started putting two and two together than out of real necessity. “Normally summoners are to report to King Ladekahn to receive a crest to present to the knights in charge of protecting the Greater Celestial River, so they know to allow entry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But with Sheliak under attack, I can’t imagine they’ll be permitting access to the Celestial Temple,” continued Xelha, “At least, not until the Al Fhard are driven out.” She got a scary look on her face, the kind that Kalas had a sinking suspicion meant that she’d suggest they take on an army.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush pursed his lips. “For obvious reasons, I would prefer it if Kalas and I were kept far away from this battle. And in any case, I don’t fancy our chances with the enemy’s battleships and iron beetles.” The brief flick of his eyes to Kalas’ was enough of a confession: if they went to the capital they would be facing the creations of the great Al Zhani scientists, Dr. Georg and Dr. Larikush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to worry,” said Melodia, jauntily fixing her veil and striding out into the town square, “I’ve heard rumors of another aeon on this island, said to be even more powerful than Ixion. All we need is to find a way to sneak into the castle and we’ll have access to the ancestral aeon of the royal family of Diadem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha gasped and, when he went to check on her, her face had gone pale. She watched Melodia walk away, frozen on the spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when he was beginning to worry that the spell had harmed more than just her memory, she turned her attention to him, clasping his hands earnestly. “Um, Kalas… I’ve also heard of this legendary aeon… at least, I think.” She made an aborted motion to bite her lip. “If it’s what I think it is, it’s too dangerous to use.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something the matter, my sweets~♥~?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Larikush who reassured her. “All the more reason for us to support him.” He smiled as gently at her as he used to at him and Fee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The awkward third wheel of their touching heart-to-heart, he cut in, “We’d better not keep Melodia waiting. She can be pretty impatient sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know her well then.” The higher his eyebrow rose, the harder Kalas winced. His decision to put off explaining off how the pariah of Balancoire came to be travelling with its missing ducal heir was backfiring sooner than he’d guessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make it sound like we eloped or something,” he deflected with a well-practiced laugh. When both merely stared in silence, he groaned and stalked off to where his comrade was waiting, whining, “Melodia, tell them we didn’t elope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? You mean to say we didn’t, my dear Kalas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even joke about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teehee, who’s joking? It certainly isn’t me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling your grandfather.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, poo. When did you lose your sense of fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When</span>
  <em>
    <span> you</span>
  </em>
  <span> lost your</span>
  <em>
    <span> mind</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without noticing, they had reached the local bar, the pair of mother hens eavesdropping at their heels. Knowing that nothing he could say would change their minds—whatever they’d been set on—he rolled his eyes and pushed his way in, ignoring the stares of the patrons. When he reached the bar itself, he slouched against it in front of the unimpressed barkeep. She looked him up and down, clearly guessing his age and finding it inadequate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t wait for him to ask before launching into the news. “Sorry, young man, but you just missed the only Nashiran willing to risk strangers in his boat.” She looked up as the others arrived, focusing on the only legal adult. “I’m Anna, the proprietor. If you plan on sneaking out, you’re better off doing it now. If Reblys finds out that outsiders are here, he’ll rally the townsfolk to lock you up. He doesn’t like meddlers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re very fortunate to have met someone so accommodating as you then, Miss Anna,” thanked Larikush, “Do you have any advice on how to proceed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quirking a brow, she sidled around the bar into the main area of the room, motioning a table of grumpy fishermen to move. With the furniture out of the way, she reached down and pulled up a trapdoor. The pit it hid had wood-paneled walls and a well-worn ladder. “You’re the second person to ask me that today. Should I be expecting more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better not be,” Kalas grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coughing in embarrassment, his grandpapa interjected, “Our apologies. My grandson here has gone through many trials already, and is easily frustrated by what he perceives as lack of progress. He means nothing by it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna waved him off. “Running a tavern, he’s not the first to act like that, and he won’t be the last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Kalas mumbled, more out of obligation to Larikush than genuine sentiment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heeding Anna’s warnings to hurry onwards, they leapt down and began feeling their way along the dark tunnel, soon made darker by the lowering of the trap door. Fortunately, the secret passage soon brightened again. They emerged at an offshoot of the Lesser Celestial River, which, though breathtaking, was difficult to appreciate when an enormous creature stood by a tall boarding platform. It was gray with a thick, stout tail and a trunk more curled than a moth’s proboscis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you also here to ride the shoopuf?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The muffled voice came from none other than the mysterious beetle man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like we’re going to tell you,” he retorted, but the stranger’s gaze had already slipped past him to land on--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Xelha!” he exclaimed, skirting around the group ‘til he stood in front of her. Pulling her hands up to cradle them in front of him, he looked deep into her eyes—or at least appeared to, given his manner of dress. “I’m glad to see your rest did you well. When you left so suddenly, I was afraid that it was something more serious!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shooting nervous glances at her companions, she answered, “I’m sorry, but how do you know my name? Did we meet yesterday afternoon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He immediately dropped her hands and made an apologetic bow. “Yes, we did. I am sorry, I should not have presumed—my name is Guillo. We discussed the beauty of Sadal Suud as the island faded into the horizon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gui…llo…?” Her eyes flared wide, breath catching in a somewhat melodramatic manner—though much of what made it so was the eternal twilight of Diadem, the soft, warm light of the clouds casting stark indigo shadows across her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed pleased at the recognition. “Yes, that is correct! Do you recall our encounter after a—“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo cut himself off, leaning back from the sharp star point that, in a liquid flash, had appeared at his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” said Melodia, for once dropping the goody-goody-gumdrop persona and speaking in her normal tone, “In that case, I’m afraid I’ll have to demand that you explain what you did to this poor girl.” As she spoke, she drew Xelha in with her other arm, sheltering the bewildered woman against her chest like a lost child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Internally, Kalas rolled his eyes; drop one, pick up another. As willing as he was to admit his acting had a few holes—the most recent of which was distinctly Larikush-shaped—at least he kept it simple. No one was going to be looking at </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> and thinking he was anything other than a one-winged runt with a chip on his shoulder. Mainly because it was mostly true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Melodia,” Larikush began, no doubt bracing himself to be a buffer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Melodia would have none of it. “So soon after escaping from the Empire’s clutches, our Kalas left the newly-reunited company of his grandfather, never suspecting he’d soon come across the body of one of his comrades.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her arms, Xelha met his eyes. He tried to play it off, but her slow, honest smile heated his cheeks. Glancing away irritably, Kalas pretended to scratch his cheek, rubbing as if the blush could somehow crumble away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Releasing her, Melodia continued, “Bleeding, incapable of being roused—and then, she finally awoke, disoriented, pained, and without memory of what happened to her.” The ferocity of her glower made even Kalas flinch. She advanced on her sacrifice, driving him back until he tripped over the edge of the river, landing on his rump in the shallows. “Very convenient for you, hooded stranger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something was troubling Xelha, and the mix of emotions on her face was too confusing for Kalas to read. Although it would be easy to assume she’d been taken in by Melodia’s lies, she looked distracted, contrite, as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one doing wrong. Having repeatedly begun to reach out to the suspicious man, only to draw back at a convincing argument for his guilt, she finally stared Kalas down, silently commanding him to speak his piece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, it was only when he saw Larikush set his jaw that he decided to intervene, lest there be an ugly confrontation that forced him to pick sides between his grandfather and his owner. “You’ve got to admit, it doesn’t look good for you, buddy,” he said with a smirk, strolling over and helping him out of the water. When Melodia fell into place as his concerned guardian, he brushed her off, grumbling, “Might as well back off. Even if you do hurt him, Papa will probably just heal him back up. Doctors’ oath and all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure if Larikush had taken such an oath—or, indeed, if he was the kind of doctor that even did so—but it served its purpose, getting them both to back down before the whole situation went to hell. Quickly scanning everyone’s body language, he saw that he hadn’t quite been able to neutralize the damage—Xelha was wide-eyed skepticism, Larikush’s lips and eyes were narrowed in on Melodia, and she, in turn, had the look of a betrayed zealot (which, to some extent, she was). It was too soon for her to be able to recover from slipping like she had. An alibi for her behavior was needed, or else they would have to dispose of the other guardians early to make sure they didn’t interfere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas wasn’t entirely sure why Melodia had been so insistent on their joining in the first place. It wasn’t as if either fit the criteria.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was no time for introspection. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re lucky I know how to work the charmlessness.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Aloud he laughed, “Sheesh, and you get on </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> case for never letting stuff go. You can’t go jumping at every shadow. I mean--” He tossed his head with careful carelessness, the better to watch Guillo from his peripheral vision. “--this guy doesn’t look like he’s with Giacomo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Guillo’s already stiff-backed stance went totally rigid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Continuing with the feigned whimsy, he shrugged, “Even if he was, the Al Fhard here have bigger fish to fry than little old ‘Labasu Hqarl’ Kalas. Let’s just keep an eye on him and get going before we miss our chance at that aeon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the previous reaction was gratifying, the one garnered by dropping his Al Fhard title—nickname? prisoner code?—was like hitting the jackpot.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>More like ‘let’s keep him around so he can look </span>
  </em>
  <span>more</span>
  <em>
    <span> guilty and kill him when we need to retroactively blame someone to make us look good’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, relaxing as Melodia apologized for having overreacted, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyway, if she can pick up strays without asking for permission, so can I</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about it, Guillo? Feel like being a temporary guardian?” he suggested, blithely ignoring the boss’ disapproval. If he could see Guillo’s expression, he was sure it would be shell-shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um, yes! Of course!” he agreed so rapidly that his voice cracked, “Truth be told, so long as I am able to attend to some business I have with King Ladekahn, I would be grateful if the position could be made permanent.” The earnestness in his voice was almost painful to listen to. He felt kind of bad for making the kid the designated villain of their upcoming romp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have business with the king?” asked Larikush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, though it’s largely pointless now that the tensions have flared to the point of war.” Realizing he’d said too much, Guillo backtracked. “I had some intelligence I wished to share regarding the Empire’s plans, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…you were too late,” Larikush finished, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it would appear so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The impatient honk of the shoopuf reminded them of their purpose. Without a moment to lose, Kalas grabbed a frantically apologizing Guillo and sprang to the creature’s back, skipping the boarding ramp and Guillo’s sad attempts at flight entirely. The others settled around its saddle while Melodia took the reins, no doubt summoning years of neglected training with mounts. She soon got the hang of it, guiding the beast into deeper waters once she became more confident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By noon, they could hear the sound of distant explosions, accompanied by smoke rising from behind the river’s tall, craggy banks. What stilted conversation there was ceased entirely, except for quiet trades of food and magnus, including Guillo’s not inconsiderable supply of potions, ethers, and odds and ends stolen from fiends. An hour later, the sight of a machina airship flying low sent him into a weapon maintenance frenzy. Kalas wondered why he was going such lengths to hide his face if he was just going to use a machina weapon anyway. It appeared to be some sort of firearm, though there were some modifications even he could tell were nonstandard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sidling up to Larikush, he whispered, “Hey, is that one of Gramps’?” He jerked his head towards the weapon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having stolen a glance when Guillo wasn’t looking, the doctor murmured back, “Yes, I believe so. If I recall correctly, that particular machina is called a ‘sound shock gun’. Georg drew inspiration from the horn instruments popular in the capital.” The diction was more endstop than full stop, yet he said no more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas nudged him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, Kalas. We know very little about Guillo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Papa, you’re always telling me to be more cautious,” he wheedled. Without thinking, he slipped into his old habit of attempting to mimic the look of innocence that Fee had perfected. Not that it would’ve been terribly convincing even if he hadn’t blanched halfway through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if that’s why you’re asking,” Larikush sighed, a wry twist to his mouth, “Gossip is a terrible habit, boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure is.” Kalas managed to keep a straight face long enough to wear his grandpapa down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing again, he gave the answer at last. “Sound shocks are a form of gun invented so that assassins could blend into a crowd—their parts can be rearranged to play music. If Guillo is well-versed in his weapon of choice….” He took a breath. “Kalas, as either a gun or an instrument, it is exceedingly difficult to use. So much so that even within the Empire, there are few with the skill to use it. And those who do—Ayme, for example, is considered the undisputed master—generally prefer to use the equally difficult but much more powerful gunblades.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what you’re saying is this guy is trying to assassinate Ladekahn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying that it would be very hard for him to come by that weapon, much less the skill to use it, without having attended the Imperial Academy—without being of much higher social standing than the average Al Fhard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, Kalas looked away. He was already regretting coming up with a plan before knowing all the information. Sparing a moment of annoyance at Melodia for forcing his hand, he replied, “Well, at least we’re here to keep an eye on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the front of the shoopuf, Melodia called, “Sir Guillo, it seems you’ll have the chance to prove your mettle sooner than expected.” She eased their transport to a stop, signaling for quiet as she flew to the ground and crept behind the cover of a small cliff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following her, they saw that just out of sight of the shoopuf stood an Iron Beetle (“Mark I,” Larikush hissed, sounding almost offended) undergoing the final stages of repairs. It rested on an even plateau of rock, well away from the water’s surface. Al Fhard were scrambling all over it, polishing, tightening bolts, and beating off curious cancerites that wandered in. The elongated frogs wobbled away on barely bipedal legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha pursed her lips. “Would it be possible to sneak by?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Possible, but not likely,” replied Larikush, shaking his head sadly, “There’s also the safety of the capital to consider. An Iron Beetle, even an early model, can cause significant damage to the best defenses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, sneak attack?” asked Kalas, surprised by the lack of resistance aimed at the suggestion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia began drawing a diagram of their soon-to-be battleground. “Unfortunately, my dark arts won’t be very useful against a machina, and my rudimentary wind spells won’t do much better. I’ll have to take care of the soldiers.” Seven in all was a tall order for her on her lonesome, but he knew no one scarier than a Melodia who didn’t need to worry about her audience’s perception of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first strike should be the most powerful,” said Guillo, kneeling beside her, “For that, it may be for the best to rely upon an aeon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha piped up next. “I’m also a summoner. How about Kalas and I strike with our aeons from higher ground? It will be more difficult for them to counterattack, and I can support you all where needed with my black magic.” She stared critically at each mass of rock until her eyes alighted upon an especially tall one. “There! We can fly to the Cloud Passage from the top of that cliff!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met and Kalas nodded, gesturing for her to make a notation on their battle plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He added, “If you need another person on the ground, I’m a little stronger than the average summoner.” He released the blades of his staff, thankful that Giacomo had, for whatever reason, decided to reaffix the decorative head. Melodia already knew and Larikush most likely figured out the weapon’s new form on sight, but the other two were hilariously startled. He dug out a magnus to store it in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll need to stay in the line of danger,” said Larikush apologetically, “It’s the only way I’ll be able to properly monitor everyone for healing purposes. Additionally, I’ll need a sightline in order to aim.” He marked himself in their current location.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As my needs are similar to his, I shall place myself amongst those stones.” Guillo pointed to a pile on the other side of the river, somewhat closer than Larikush’s position. “If need be, I can back you up on the field itself, Miss Melodia, Summoner Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas shrugged. “Your funeral.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lacking objections from anyone as to their formation, they scurried into position, pressed by the limited time left to repairs. When it appeared that Guillo was about to be caught by a soldier unexpectedly turning, he and Xelha silently agreed to begin early.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question was: which should he summon? On one hand, Ar was much stronger, but on the other, the last thing he wanted was for Xelha to catch Malpercio’s scent so soon after getting her memory wiped. It was moments like these when he regretted not having a normal aeon or two, though at least the latter’s connections with the wicked god were muted by comparison. Looking critically at their collective abilities, he quirked his lips unhappily and settled for the weaker aeon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Diablos, come forth!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Protect us, Shiva!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On either side of the Iron Beetle an aeon appeared, one a glacier of a woman—proof that Melodia was right about Xelha?—the other taking the form of a giant golden magnus, inscribed with a demonic face and pulsating with dark energy. Diablos’ magic, like Melodia’s, wouldn’t be very effective, but unlike her it needn’t use darkness to shore up a frail body. Spinning rapidly, it sawed through the row of three legs, crippling the machina even as it was shot down by the defending Al Fhard.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Looks like I’ll be more effective on the ground after all.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s aeon was doing much better, wheeling midair to avoid cannon fire. Shiva skated on rails of ice, locking the machina’s joints into place with thick layers of crystal. Then, once her target was secure, she shot upwards, flipping into a dive that sundered its armor, exposing the delicate inner workings. With a pained gasp from Xelha, she vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, are you—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go,” she gasped, taking a moment to steady her breath before launching into her next role, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Windara Blow!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the ground, Melodia had struck first, blasting the soldiers with a white orb from which burst dark, sea urchin-like spurs that imploded upon contact. Her next move had been to activate a pair of blood red glyphs—one around herself, another for her one of the stronger-looking soldiers. It didn’t have any apparent effect, but her most devastating abilities rarely did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By that point, the soldiers had converged upon her, two driven back by the snipers. While Guillo kept up his cover fire, Larikush healed an overwhelmed Melodia. Realizing their mistake, the Al Fhard scattered, forcing her to chase them down one by one. This allowed them to return fire and advance upon her allies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Beetle was still operational as well, despite being on its last leg—literally, thanks to Xelha and her tireless casting. It blast to pieces the hiding place of their newest recruit, who dove out of the way in time to avoid most of the damage from the blast. Not so much the shrapnel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cura Stream!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas landed behind an enemy about to shoot Guillo point blank. Giving them no time to react, he spun his double-bladed sword up and around his body, switching it to his left hand to slice open another that had come to their comrade’s aid.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ting!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With a bell-like note, Guillo had killed a soldier that was aiming for Kalas’ exposed head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BOOM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Too bad there was a bigger gun around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yelling to compensate for his ringing ears, Kalas ordered, “Hey, new guy! Help Xelha! That machina needs to go down!” And he’d already proven how useful he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo said something that he couldn’t quite hear and sprang forward, prancing from one jutting rock formation to the next until, with a small boost from his wings, he had thrown himself into a long leap over the Iron Beetle. Midair, he pulled out what appeared to be marbles out of his collection of miscellaneous garbage. These he loaded into his gun, firing into the machina’s core when he reached the zenith of his jump. Rather than behave as bullets, they reacted to form a shockwave that jolted it to the core. He rolled into a landing as Xelha added water to the mix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Larikush busy tossing spells to keep Melodia alive, Kalas made sure to stay on his toes, knowing he’d have minimal support. He dove into a whirling frenzy, keeping opponents off his back with his rapidly spinning blades. While he focused on the defensive, Melodia was quite the opposite, staining her clothes, skin, and wings with the blood she shed to access the dark arts. It paid off, however, as much of it wasn’t hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having struck down the last of her prey, she took several leaping strides across the battlefield to plunge into the midst of the Al Fhard targeting him. Within seconds they were decimated, barely able to put up a fight against the onslaught. Freed from the arduous task of keeping a dark knight healthy, Larikush spun his staff back into firing position, aiming for what proved to be a weak point only the machina’s creator would know about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo walked over, Xelha alighted beside him, and the five of them stood triumphant over the small enemy force, sliding their weapons back into whatever manner of storage they favored. The bloodthirsty song of adrenaline slowly faded out, leaving him cold in the knowledge that he’d actually killed someone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Several</span>
  </em>
  <span> someones. With his own hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eyes on the prize, Kalas, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he scolded himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush was the first to speak and, as he could’ve guessed, rain on their parade. “We can handle one more engagement like this—maybe two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not strong enough… not yet,” Xelha agreed sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why it’s so important we hurry to the next aeon!” No one had a response to her assertion, which Melodia took as a cue to spring off to calm the shoopuf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just as well that they didn’t encounter those one-to-two more battles, for they all drifted off after about half an hour of the rocking stroll of their transport.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><span>Vkoezav Nrosuth!</span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jarred awake, it was only by an instinctive call upon her wings that Xelha veered off the course that gravity commanded: directly off the edge of the island.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Righting herself, she spied Guillo struggling to fly with his stiff wings. She landed on a spur of rock and caught his hand just in time, nearly pitching off into the clouds from the weight. As it was, she was jerked to her knees, adding her other arm to the jumble of hands keeping him from falling. Not that her left arm had much strength to lend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stone underfoot began to crumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clambering, slipping, scrabbling wildly, they managed to fight their way back onto solid ground, impeded by the tremors of the shoopuf’s pain-blinded rampage. They knew it had finally fallen when their progress was almost erased by a sudden shockwave. Grabbing Guillo by the waist, she threw herself upwards against what little footing she could find, half-flying, half-crashing through the water into the low wall that divided the river from Sheliak. She scrambled backwards onto the stony bank, splashing water everywhere as her wings worked to carry the additional weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner had he gotten a leg up on the wall did Guillo start shooting at foes approaching from behind her, drawing, cocking, and firing as a single fluid movement. She herself gathered the mana for casting before her wand fell into place, blasting imperial soldiers with streams of water. Ahead of them, the others had apparently fallen off the other side of the shoopuf, for they were already dancing around the lashes from a strange, blue-skinned man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey’fu bezzus thzydal as aeyt erl obu, Larikush!</span>” he taunted, zipping around on his winglets like an ice skater, “<span>A udduvzul zkath vasl en alaeva ntes Kalas—soaku az’th tykkul enn es aey!</span>” Another fierce attack, this time a barrage of chronos-charged wallops, forced the others back. He flitted up to a nearby roof and squatted, flicking his whip mockingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Pe nyhh os udqoykz tatu, Folon!</span>” Kalas yelled back as he sent a small whirlwind from the end of his blade. His accent bordered on atrocious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ravu aey ufus vsek kkoz zkoz suosth!</span>” The man, identified as Folon, made a rude-looking gesture and flipped off the roof. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His movements were strong, fast, and unpredictable. Not only that, he had a great deal of ground support, snipers taking potshots from the roofs, automatons, and, from the sound of things, an Iron Beetle trundling their way from deeper in the city. Meaning that Sheliak was likely already overrun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha tried and failed to release her frustration alongside her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>This meaningless battle is perpetuated by your idle hands.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>When she heard Guillo cry out in pain at her side, she released her power without consideration to the limits she normally imposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rising into the air, she called forth a storm, much like Kalas had done earlier. Hers, however, was carried in on the wings of a swarm of butterflies, thousands strong. The winds scattered the Al Fhard into buildings and the river, some unfortunate enough to find themselves tumbling out into the clouds. The machina were pulled into the growing vortex of insects, torn to pieces by the strength of the current. In its center, Folon writhed as he was impaled by the shrapnel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The butterflies flew upwards and away, leaving their victims senseless on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others landed, staring in shock and apprehension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was the first to speak. “Xelha, who—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no time!” she cut him off, panting, “Diadem is in danger of falling!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From out of nowhere came a rough, folksy voice. “I wouldn’t go placing your bet just yet, miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Into the middle of their circle landed one of the most elite force within the ranks of Diadem’s knights: a dragoon, identifiable by the metal-plated skull of a juvenile thunderfish that served as his helmet. His only other armor was a white breastplate with dark blue accents. This was worn with a short cape of the same color, a sky blue sash, and a white skirt. On his left arm was a tattoo of a sea serpent rolling amidst waves. And while the head of his spear was impressive, it appeared to be affixed to a repurposed fisherman’s oar. All in all, if not for the skull, he would appear more like someone playing at being a knight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The newcomer eyed her critically. “A summoner, right? You need to get to the castle. ‘Kahn is offering sanctuary for all civilians there. And if you feel like using those aeons of yours….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leapt back into the air, crashing back down into a devastating blow against the Iron Beetle they hadn’t noticed arriving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was smashed utterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The companions exchanged glances and unanimously decided to hurry along as ordered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the dragoon came a number of reinforcements, no doubt recalled from abroad. With their leader in no need of help against the Al Fhard, they quickly fell into place as an honor guard of sorts, directing them towards the castle and fending off any who would do them harm. The city’s streets were a rush of steel, screams, clouds pink as if stained by blood, Al Fhard and Diademi and screeching machina—so much so that Xelha had been sitting on a couch in a side room for several minutes before her head cleared and she realized she was safe. When she did stir, she found that the others had not been so affected.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What sort of lives did they live that this is normal to them?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered, going over what she knew about each.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a godcraft, Guillo had experienced the ugliest war of all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush’s heritage would also have exposed him to a great deal of conflict, as would Kalas’ history of kidnappings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia, as always, remained a mystery, though Larikush seemed to know things about her without his grandson having to say anything. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe she’s a career guardian? She seems awfully young though….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Xelha!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—! Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas gave her a look. “We’ve been talking to you for awhile now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I see. I’m sorry, this has all just been so overwhelming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to faint again are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a movement too casual to be an uncommon occurrence, Larikush lightly rapped his knuckles atop Kalas’ head. “Be more considerate, <span>thzotrasb.</span>” To her he said kindly, “We’ve decided to take advantage of the… preoccupation of our hosts to pursue the aeon located in the Shrine of the Winds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said it was accessible from the throne room?” asked Guillo. She suspected it was more for her sake than to confirm his understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it won’t be any trouble to find,” Melodia purred, helping Xelha to her feet. She gave her hands a reassuring squeeze and, looking her in the eye, said gently, “If ever you need to take a moment, dearheart, we’d be happy to accommodate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be alright.” Still, she didn’t argue when Larikush walked with her in the rear, counseling her on how to process the wretched feelings inspired by witnessing war firsthand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The halls were quiet. Likely it was on account of the demands of the invasion, but they didn’t encounter a single guard. In fact, the doors to the throne room were wide open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This does not bode well,” Guillo murmured, starkly loud in the unnatural stillness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hurried on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again demonstrating unusually precise knowledge of non-public matters, Melodia strode confidently through the room, slipping out of the castle by way of a doorless archway past a column in the shape of a dragon. She wondered at the easy access to such forbidden power as an End Magnus, but perhaps there were details to the situation she wasn’t aware of. Under normal circumstances, it most likely faded into the background in the face of the glitteringly opulent throne room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond the door was a remote trail made of clouds so thick, they put even the Cloud Passage to shame. Each step was a delight—the springy surface was softer than any other material she’d walked on, absorbing the impact of their increasingly rushed movements. Had she not beheld a more horrifying sight, she would have liked to gaze at the rest of the island, visible from the heights they climbed. As it was, the reason behind the lack of security was immediately apparent as they turned a bend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Al Fhard bodies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corpses were staggered out in such a manner as to suggest that it was the handiwork of a single warrior beating a singularly bloody retreat. The further they followed the trail, the more often they came across Al Fhard in the process of breathing their last. When at last the shrine appeared, as one they burst in, discovering the mystery warrior to be King Ladekahn himself, fighting a losing battle against an entire company. To the side stood a red-haired officer, merely watching as the longsword was struck from the king’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Majesty!” cried Guillo, making to come to his aid. However, he was forced to a halt by the guns trained on him and Ladekahn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for the king himself, he narrowed his eyes at the newcomers. “Who…?” They slipped past to rest on the leader of their expedition. “Melodia?! Your grandfather has been beside himself! How came you to be—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an impatient snort, the officer cut him off with a casual backhand. He then barked out an order that had two dozen soldiers approach, weapons raised, to surround the five newcomers. Kalas was singled out and pulled, fighting every step of the way, through the unit, which parted to reveal the tell-tale crystal demarking a Chamber of the Fayth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Se!</span>” Larikush was pinned down before he could make a move, forced to watch his grandson be shoved to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Qek nazzasp zqoz zqu zwoazew ju twukusz new zqak</span>,” said the officer, nostrils raising into a sneer, “<span>Ew kok zqak aeyw tros orr oresp?</span>” To Kalas he said, “Well? Go on. His Magnificence will want to be sure that the End Magnus is truly stored here.” His tone was bored, as if capturing a king, a traitor, and a ‘Labasu Hqarl’ was a duty beneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this the honor of a great house of Alfard? Release us at once!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo’s shout drew his attention, which rapidly shifted from indifference to recognition to fury, ultimately settling on cunning. A minuscule gesture and Guillo was thrown forward by his captors, regaining his balance just as the officer slid his gun into position under his chin. From there, he jabbed upwards until Guillo was forced onto the tips of his toes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Razzru gwezquw, A qetu new aeyw kohu aey hosu ze luraubuw zqu Labasu Hqarl</span>.” A smirk bloomed across his face before biting itself away. “<span>Zqeypq A hos kuu nwes aeyw</span>
  <em>
    <span> nohu</span>
  </em>
  <span> zqoz aks’z zqu hoku.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Release us,” Guillo repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’<span>Yk’? Zqu zwoazew osl zqu greel zwoazew? Zqu lyhqukk osl zqu hasp? Zqu Labasu Hqarl osl… kqozubuw ywhqas aey’bu tahhul yt?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha found herself the center of attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer continued. “<span>Zqua les’z hsek aeyw uauk, le zqua? Zqua les’z hsek aey new zqu arr-gwul kqewukes zqoz aey owu. A kytteku az ak zqu lyza en greel ze pwosz kyhq o ksorr nasor wuvyukz.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was freed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha,” called Larikush, “You have nothing to do with this, so you’re being let go. Leave now before anything happens to you.” Though his words encouraged surrender, there was a gleam in his eye that hailed her as the bearer of their triumph.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She inclined her head slowly, keeping eye contact the whole way. “I’m sorry to abandon you all like this, but it’s simply too much.” Backing away, she’d almost made it out when a bout of flames slammed into her from behind, sending her rolling in an attempt to put them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey alaez</span>!” Limping into the shrine came Folon, rather worse for wear and holding an obvious grudge for it. He barked (with no small amount of bloody spittle), “<span>Kkeufut zkath batr ath, thku suulth ze ku dyz leks kunetu thku voythuth osa setu losobu!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever threat he’d made, he didn’t seem in good enough shape to dispense it himself. However, it spurred the rest of the Al Fhard into action, forcing Xelha to flee to the rafters, hoping that her friends’ lives wouldn’t be used to blackmail her back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Ice Queen! The wicked god!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner had Shiva let out her anguished scream than Kalas roared his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>LE!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wave of power that had Shiva so panicked hit Xelha. Kalas had summoned part of Malpercio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aeon Le appeared almost as a counterpart to Shiva; it too resembled a woman, though Le’s skin was bare except for patches of teal and magenta fur, which looked as if they’d been ripped at, as well as a set of chains tied about its legs. These lead back to Kalas, who was similarly bound. Le peered around the chamber, eyes impossibly dilated and head jerking unnaturally, almost as if it were trying to snap its own neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unholy trills issuing from its mouth, Le’s arms burst into particles that spun away, shooting off wind spells as they went. Though the Al Fhard were the targets, the resulting tornadoes slammed even his guardians from one wall to the next, only abating somewhat after Larikush and Melodia somehow managed to focus their mana into a shield against the magic. Guillo, meanwhile, filled a secondary compartment in his firearm with magical components, the firing of which reinforced the spell where it landed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huddling together in their little bubble, the companions watched as Le tore uncontrollably into the soldiers until all were either dead or fleeing. Even after the threat had passed, it screamed and raged and reveled in destruction until Kalas called it back, looking as shaken as she felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shrine was in shambles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dozens of Al Fhard brutally massacred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The most powerful among them escaped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ladekahn, King of Diadem, the guiding light of the Yevonite islands, was gone with them.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 4/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 2/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. In Which There Are More Beatings Off the Trail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kalas, there’s something you need to—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—shouldn’t use it again—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know those Al—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—hope this doesn’t discourage you—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The incomprehensible babble of his guardians talking over each other was halted by the arrival of the dragoon from earlier and a squadron of knights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dragoon tilted his helmet up with a finger, scanning the shrine. After a long moment he sighed, commenting, “They took the king, huh? Dammit, ‘Kahn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other knights moved as if reading their commander’s mind. They hurried around the chamber, gathering up the bodies of their fallen enemies and the machina they’d brought. Both would be disposed of on a pyre—the traditional Sending rites were withheld from those who would court Sin. In the ensuing hubbub, the dragoon approached their group, raising an eyebrow as they quickly sprang to attention behind Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Kalas’ surprise, Guillo took the lead. “My deepest apologies for our failure to save His Majesty. Had I but been quicker, I might have warned him of this eventuality….” He folded into a full-body bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed again. “Not your fault, kiddo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo remained still in body and voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, things have been getting bad for a while, okay? What we need to do now is get you kids ready to take on Sin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Then</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can worry about the Empire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas squinted suspiciously at the dragoon’s extended hand before taking the proffered magnus. It held some sort of shield emblem in the blue, white, and yellow of House Elnath, the royal family of Diadem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The name’s Gibari,” he said, clenching his makeshift spear between his legs to make the Eye of the Whale, “and that’s the crest of Diadem. Be sure to wave it around when you get to Anuenue—can’t guarantee Corellia will agree to let you have your next aeon, but it’ll at least get you in to see her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish I could help out more, but between the war and rescuing Ladekahn, I’ve got my hands full.” Under his breath, the knight added, “Just tracking </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> down is going to be a pain in the ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.” He contemplated the possible resale value of the crest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeming to take Kalas’ smile as a gesture of understanding, Gibari grinned, patted his shoulder with enough force to almost send him to the ground, and leapt away, disappearing back into the clouds. Wearily, Kalas wheeled about to face his guardians. Guillo he kicked lightly with the side of his foot to get him to stand upright again, Larikush had his old Dramatic Revelations Are Forthcoming face, Xelha looked angry and scared, and Melodia gave what was likely meant to be an encouraging smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flicked her forehead. “Creeping me out, Mels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so mean,” she pouted playfully, holding out an expectant hand until he handed over their ticket to Anuenue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, he gave that to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would hawk it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who, me? I’d never.” To the judgmental stares of the other three he insisted, “What? You guys really think I’d sell something as important as this? Some guardians you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush pursed his lips disapprovingly. “…Regardless, we should continue the pilgrimage. The battle here may distract Sin long enough to slip into Anuenue. That is, if we can find a ship willing to make the journey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that could be a problem…,” he mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the knights paused in his work, chirping, “I’m sure the harbormaster would be happy to help you, My Lord Summoner!” All he needed was a shrug to send him marching back out amongst the clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sounds of continued fighting below made Kalas hesitate to follow, but he choked down his misgivings and continued into the castle. That was reality. It was grim, it was vile, and it was inescapable. The best he—anyone—could do was to grit his teeth and carve out a place for himself and the handful of people he couldn’t live without. His grandfather, now his grandpapa, and maybe, just maybe, his little brother, assuming Melodia was right about the kind of power they stood to gain. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to leave some space for Xelha or Guillo, if they managed to live that long. Though he doubted that either was flexible enough to accept it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up a few flights of stairs from the throne room was a dock. Most of the moorings were empty or else servicing woebegone battleships.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there was what must have been the king’s private vessel. It was the classiest ship he’d ever seen in person, with a conch-like exterior and drawn by an armored skyfish. He barely paid attention as the knight introduced it as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mindeer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, nodding his thanks and leaving his guardians to discuss the specifics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The main body of the ship was a wide, circular room lined with green velvet divans and shelves, upon which were displayed fine paintings and vases. Four curving coffee tables matched the sofas. A number of oil-based lamps lit the room with surprising efficacy, though it still made him wish there had been a way to steal the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> from under Giacomo’s nose; real beds, unmatchable speed, and reliable, machina-based lighting were hard commodities to stick one’s nose up at, no matter the annoying memories they called forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush was the next to enter, giving Kalas a reproving frown that sent him back onto the deck to thank the knight more graciously. The others soon filed aboard and they were off, Larikush expertly adapting to the differences in controls between a machina airship and a skyfish liner. The rest of them scrabbled about the floor and ceiling to find the semi-hidden trapdoors to the upper- and lower-floor storage areas. Satisfied with the stores of lamp oil, blankets, and spare parts, they decided to raid the food, as they hadn’t eaten since noon and it was getting dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s eyes lit up upon seeing that the main rations were, of course, jars of pickled fish, smoked fish, salted fish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fish,” he said blandly, wanting to hit himself for being surprised. He didn’t hate it but, having grown up in Mira (land of making-do-with-weird-ingredients), the Celestial Alps (better for sustenance farming and animal husbandry), and the Empire (definitely not known for its marine life), his tastes tended more towards gamy meats and spices. He didn’t even care for pickled vegetables, which he’d only been exposed to on Mira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha wordlessly handed over her stock of food magnus: crackers, kebabs, and dairy products. He glanced at the alternative, shuddered, and accepted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a fist full of snack food, he hunkered down to watch Guillo eat, since he hadn’t managed a glimpse when they were on the shoopuf. To Kalas’ disappointment, he grabbed an entire jar of salted sweetfish and, without removing the lid, shoved it up his head covering. After posing with his head tilted back for about a minute, the jar reemerged, emptied.  If Guillo was at all disgusted by chugging salty fish guts, no sign of it was apparent in his body language.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needing to look away before he was sick, he spied on Melodia next. She had somehow procured a seafood fork and knife—he’d gone through her magnus many times when her back was turned and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> she hadn’t packed it—and was delicately slicing bitesize portions of sea bream. She lifted a dainty lace napkin and patted away imaginary grease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha, of course, was savoring every briny bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas decided to bring Larikush some food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas, I’m glad you’re here,” he said, hushed, as he accepted a hearty kebab, “There’s something you need to know before you go any further.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you and Gramps already told me—</span>
  <em>
    <span>us—</span>
  </em>
  <span>everything.” He met his grandpapa’s eyes, praying that he’d be able to just bury the rising hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush’s jaw tightened. For as sweet a man as he was, he had an extensive language of jaw clenching. And Kalas was fluent.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve done you wrong and I knew it as I was doing it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, said his jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It said more when it stayed closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sick to his stomach for another reason, Kalas turned away. “Nevermind. Whatever it is, I’ve made it this far. It’s not like I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know this stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At least it’ll be easier to push him away. We can have our little heart-to-heart when Malpercio’s been reawakened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a long day, huh?” he laughed, grabbing a blanket and settling on a corner couch facing the main deck. Going to bed upset meant that if he left his back open to attack, he either wouldn’t get any sleep or would have nightmares again. “I’m going to hit the hay. Got to keep up our strength!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What a joke.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>For three days, they settled into the same routine: Kalas faked a drowsiness that, given the turbulence of the past few days, he almost felt; avoided Larikush until he got the message that his henpecking wasn’t wanted; cornered Guillo to ‘get to know him better’, mostly as an excuse to bombard him with questions in hopes that he’d slip and answer one; rolled his eyes until Xelha stopped scolding him for doing so; and casually played gatekeeper so Melodia could scry in peace on the deck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fourth day he didn’t have to fake confusion upon waking, for he found himself hanging by his cape from a tree, roused by the obnoxious squawking of a startled bird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got back at it by stealing his breakfast from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Managing to fry his eggs on a sun-heated rock, Kalas promised himself that he’d stay in his robes no matter how hot it got. He worked hard to become a summoner and he wouldn’t give up the symbol of that work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His resolve lasted less than a minute in the sweltering rainforest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stripping down to his braies, shoes, and belt, he begrudgingly sealed the ceremonial garb in a magnus, which he slipped into his shoe for safekeeping. No matter what else he lost, having proof of his status would make all the difference if he met up with anyone or found his way to a town. No one could refuse a summoner for long. Even if he missed his chance and had to wait for the next Calm, showing off his summoning ability would guarantee him a privileged place in almost any community. And the handful of places it wouldn’t had an interest in keeping him alive anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia!” he called, in case she was nearby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His only answer was a high-pitched chirp he was almost entirely sure didn’t come from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He disengaged his staff’s mechanism just as a strangely reptilian bird burst out of the bushes in a manner that would have been comedic if it wasn’t taller than him by a head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ornament sunk into the soft ground, a metaphor he hoped the fiend would be able to pick up on from his exposed and ready blade. No luck—it waddled forward at top speed, burying its beak where he’d stood moments before. It seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who ought to pay heed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That all you got?!” he cried, rolling midair, winglet whirring from the effort. He swung his body into a downward slash, energy radiating through him and bounding across the ground to shock the bird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>all it had. The creature shook off the attack and let out a deafening screech. When Kalas fell to his knees, arms against ears to block out the sound, it struck, slicing deep cuts into his exposed stomach with its talons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He curled in on himself, a move that made it easier to roll out of the path of a peck that would no doubt end him. Propelling himself backwards by kicking and shuffling against the ground, he eventually stumbled upwards, sending loam flying into the fiend’s eyes as he went. The sword he whirled rapidly in a figure eight to drive it off, though the pain caused by the movement nearly made him drop it several times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes never leaving his adversary, Kalas continued to edge away from it, resisting the urge to drop his weapon and clutch the wound. Although it kept its distance, it also kept pace with him, intent on an easy breakfast. Not that he was going to make it easy for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too bad for him that a caracal chose that moment to appear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The horned feline made its own attack, goring him from behind with its horns. They glanced off his ribs, the momentum carrying it forward to knock Kalas flat on his stomach. A raised root struck his nose with enough force to spill copper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up just in time to see the caracal realize its mistake, having accidentally come to a stop within range of the other fiend’s beak. In the blink of an eye, the bird had devoured it and was stomping forward with renewed strength.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas gasped. Tensed. Gritted his teeth against the pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fingers scrabbling for his magnus pack, he forced himself into a kneel, both hands needed to hold a potion steady. A bare few drops crossed his lips before it was upon him, knocking away the potion and pinning his legs with its claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms raising desperately to shield, he shouted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>AR, HEAR MY VOICE!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he felt the chains tighten around his arms, he tried to jerk them back down to get another potion. To his dismay—alarm, panic, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dread</span>
  </em>
  <span>—he couldn’t move them, the aeon bound by a much shorter leash than he recalled. He was no match for its power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nor was the fiend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could quite register what had happened, Ar had taken off in a mad rush through the trees, dragging Kalas along the ground by his arms. He was knocked about dizzyingly as he fumbled to dig in his heels. The jungle rushed by in a blur of blue and green and pink, each knock sending a tremor of helpless agony through his battered body. At one point, the loop of a vine caught around his neck and he thought he would be strangled, only for Ar to shatter the tree it was connected to, thus ripping through it. The remains lingered, too tight and too ready to catch on the occasional branch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-Melodia!” The scream came out half-choked. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach wound scraped across rough bark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A twig broke off inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt faint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>G-Guillo?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyelashes cemented to his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>PAPA!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>A pain like being stabbed by a needle woke him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Sorry! I can be so clumsy sometimes—stupid me, I’m in my 30’s, I should act like it, right? Ahaha….”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“—not good, he keeps—“</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“—all kinds of dirt and sticks and would you believe a claw was stuck in there too?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm yourself. You’ll be no good to him if you get worked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re right, I’m doing it again! The darn wound is infected though, and this just isn’t my specialty….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done an adequate job. You would make an excellent combat medic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw shucks, you know you don’t need to butter me up like that, buttercup! Heehee~”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“—flamation is down, but his eyes don’t look right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Something wrong? Oh no, I knew I should’ve gone into town, nevermind the fussing. Drat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…No, you were right to bring him here. This is… extraordinary.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“—be a doll and grab me my wrench?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dare I ask its purpose in this surgery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We~ell</span>
  </em>
  <span>…, I was thinking I could make some adjustments to Brina—“</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice, cool and commanding and unpleasantly familiar, succeeded in rousing him, if only so that Kalas could confirm if his neverending nightmare was really starting a new chapter. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Lady Death watching him detachedly from his bedside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely taking in his surroundings—a bright, circular wooden room; frond ceiling; creepy marionettes all over the walls—he leapt away from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or attempted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh…,” he moaned, curling an arm around his stomach as if to scoop out the coals within, “What did—what did you do to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Played nursemaid,” she stated in her usual blunt manner, “<span>Aey hos wurod; zqeku loak qobu tokkul.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the time being, he decided to accept his situation, her presence, and the elixir so helpfully waiting for him on the table. Immediately feeling worlds better, he slowly edged himself upright, only to unbalance his bed. Which, as it turned out, was actually a large hammock. Fortunately for Kalas and his myriad injuries, Lady Death caught him before he could hit the ground and gently laid him upright against the pillows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still haven’t learned Al Fhard. <span>Az keyrl kuwbu aey wapqz an A ktehu sezqasp jyz Al Fhard ze aey yszar aey napywul az eyz.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do realize that if saying stuff I don’t understand would make me learn the language, I’d’ve become fluent the first few times you guys kidnapped me,” he complained, rolling his eyes as obnoxiously as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips quirked into a small, wry smile. “Indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas blinked. That was new. The Lady Death he’d encountered in the past was a brutal death machine, emotionless lapdog, and had all the sense of humor of a moldy brick. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now that I think about it, none of this adds up.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lady Death on what he had to assume was Anuenue? Apparently nursing him back to health in some ramshackle hut in the middle of a rainforest? Not to mention her lack of uniform. In fact, she was dressed like a native.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You left the Empire to shack up in the boonies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You left the Empire to become a summoner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glared, searching for some evidence of mockery or accusation in her eyes. Finding none, he relaxed marginally, shrugging. “Well, I guess there are worse places to lay low.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could say the same for you,” she replied, spiral pupils seeming to spin as they contracted. Her bearing became more wary, calculating. “I hadn’t heard that the doctors died. My condolences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They </span>
  <em>
    <span>haven’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he snapped, stung by the unintentional reminder of the one who </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As deeply ingrained as her training was, she couldn’t hide the way her body stiffened, then loosened into the malleable tension of a cornered animal. “And they allowed this?” Her expression was more searching than confused, despite her surprise. “Let me—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—join up?” he interrupted, rolling his eyes again. Melodia liked to compare the action to an art form and he wouldn’t want to disappoint. “No thanks. Any more tag-alongs and the other summoners are going to think I’m some wimp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t you like to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two narrowed sets of eyes met in standstill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, Kalas remarked, “Look, I’m not about to tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything, and it’s not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to tell me your life story anyway. So why don’t you just go do… whatever it is you’re doing here, and I’ll leave as soon as I can walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment he thought she was actually following his suggestion. But once standing, rather than heading for the door, she walked up to the nearest window and, in an oddly subdued manner, shouted, “Cid!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, there </span>
  </em>
  <span>were </span>
  <em>
    <span>two voices</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Kalas examined his surroundings with a more focused eye than before. </span>
  <em>
    <span>These creepy dolls aren’t really her M.O… they must belong to this ‘Cid’.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Upon closer inspection, he noticed tools and parts not unlike Gramps’ lying around. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But why would wooden dolls need… wait—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As if in answer to his unasked question, the smallest and least intricate of the dolls—indeed, he’d thought it a misplaced fire log—hopped to its nonexistent feet, peg limbs windmilling all the while. When it landed, it scurried towards the open doorway to Kalas’ left. It missed, however, slamming into a nearby wall, backing up, and repeating the process over and over again. It took Lady Death nudging it back on course for it to complete its trip, running out onto a deck. The sound of wood scraping against wood followed, soon accompanied by several crashes and the squawking of a bird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And what a bird it was—or rather, woman. She came tumbling into the hut with the automaton clutched in her arms, a jumble of purple hair, green linen, and striped stockings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she’d sorted herself out, he could see that she was either wearing a long happi or a short yukata, her gangly height making it difficult to tell. Atop her head were the leaves of a red hair ornament that sat like a parrot’s crest. Overall, the plethora of colors, tangible excitement, and constant stream of high-pitched, bubbly mock-scolding of the puppet lent to her all the aura and gravitas of a caffeinated parakeet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—and oh, Woodfellah, you’re really getting on in the years—you should let Calca get the pulley! This is the third time you’ve fallen this week and I don’t have any dagwoo—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Death cut her off, not with words, but by lifting her chin closed with a click. Her hand slid upwards to briefly cup a flushed cheek, then turned the newcomer’s gaze towards Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes bulged in surprise. “You’re awake?! You’re pretty resilient, huh, Kalas? Oops! Forgot to introduce myself! I’m Lo—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cid</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I’m Cid, a humble inventor. I’m going to have Brina take another look, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brina turned out to be a toddler-sized mechanical doll in a lacy red dress. Its blonde, corkscrew locks; red eyes; and uncanny stare reminded him of Melodia, though the resemblance was largely in demeanor rather than form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brina trundled over and began prodding at him, casting minor healing spells at his injuries. It was only then that he realized that they were much milder than they should have been following the wild ride Ar had given him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I owe you my life, Lo-Cid,” he said, calmed by the realization that Lady Death was shackled by this strange puppeteer. Without meaning to, he let a cunning smirk slide into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, yeah!” she laughed awkwardly as she tilted her head, scratching at her nape, “You might as well just call me Lolo—I’m an engineer, see, and back when I was young, I was pretty well-known. ‘Til ‘Vyna came along, I was dodging people left and right.” Her earnest brown eyes met his in commiseration. “I learned my lesson after that waterwheel--no more big commissions for little old Lolo!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smirk grew wider. “This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good place to lie low, isn’t it?” He directed it at his former enemy, pleased to see her draw up defensively, no matter how minute the movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were separated from your guardians.” The change of subject was nonetheless smooth, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by Lolo’s gushing at the revelation of his title. “I’ll find them for you, if you tell me where and who to look for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo butted in before he could answer, flinging herself at her lover’s torso. “Wow, he’s got guardians and you’re still going to join up? This guy must be something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sliding off of Lady Death just as quickly, she hastily turned back to him and explained, “My honey-hubby here usually makes ends meet with hunting and stuff, but she likes to help out summoners in need! You know, Holoholo’s so dangerous, and Anuenue is pretty hard to get to too—a lot of times guardians don’t make it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas, looking back and forth between the implacable Lady Death and the buzzing Lolo, felt proud of himself for both acknowledging a lost cause when he saw it and yielding with relative graciousness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, he started going through his magnus collection, only to remember that he hadn’t gotten around to his photography in months. Having his way paid by the future ruler of a trade nation, as well as the knowledge that his survival was one in a million, had eroded his work ethic. That, and Melodia had managed to crack the glass the very first time she borrowed his camera and then insisted that they settle for no less than the latest deluxe model as a replacement, nevermind that the rest of it was still functional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of handing over portraits, he’d have to describe them one by one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first is Melody. She—well, you’ll know her when you see her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it was true, he only said it because he was unenthused by the idea of purple-prosing his way through a description. It was embarrassing enough when he did it in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what Papa looks like.… Xelha is blonde and wears a lot of pink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure if it was Lady Death’s unknown motives, his paranoia, or the reluctant affection he felt for her, but Kalas left out the more… </span>
  <em>
    <span>noteworthy</span>
  </em>
  <span>… observations about the odd mage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Guillo never shows any skin, so….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His choice of wording led him to picture the layers of clothing replaced by the same amount of lingerie and stockings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I would be grateful if this position could be made permanent~</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the imaginary Guillo moaned extravagantly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ride me like a shoopuf.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No thanks,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kalas muttered back at his brain, annoyed at the distraction. Across from him, Lady Death’s face was returning to neutrality, which meant he must have missed a vital clue about her motivations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Understood.” She and Lolo had one of those married-couple-silent-conversations and then she was gone, slipping out with nary a word more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Lolo couldn’t make up the difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get going!” she cheered. At his confused expression, she clarified, “’Vyna’ll look for your friends, so we should get a move on to get you to your next aeon—it’ll make it easier for us to find each other, you know? Pretty hard to miss the palace, especially since you came on a festival year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An idea formed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia was more forthcoming in her displeasure once they had an opportunity to meet alone (courtesy of Guillo, who was so eager to prove himself that Kalas easily bullied him into keeping watch). The moment the cabin door closed, she showed him their personal map—the one that they kept secret from the others to plot out their true course. He could immediately see the problem: unlike most of the islands, the Malperciac aeon was in a different location than its counterpart in the Canon Five, and not one that would be easy to break into.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s a problem,” Kalas commented dryly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She gazed at her shields, frowning, and raised an arm. The sun’s light met and penetrated the glass, allowing her to cycle through the elemental spells represented. One by one she channeled them. Though impressive, it was clear that they would be hurting for strength if it came down to brute force. “The Fairy Guide,” the title was all but spat out, “will likely block us from the Celestial Tree.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And it’s not like we can just sneak in either,” he agreed, “Not to mention Xelha. You regret going out of your way to bring her along yet?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia regarded him with an amusement that played hell on his nerves. “You’ve seemed terribly focused on her since we left Sadal Suud. Were you that charmed by her rescue?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re the one who gets weird about her.” Kalas wondered at his skipping heart nonetheless.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He pictured her: Xelha, cheerful and kind, powerful and mysterious, self-righteous and dishonest. Her bubbly smile, the blush when she was teased, her childlike way of swinging her limbs whenever she sat or ran. Xelha in battle, destroying her enemies with an expression not regretful, as he would’ve guessed, or even fierce, but rather stately. In control, in command, and openly acknowledging her own strength without coming across as arrogant. He pictured her and tried to imagine them together, relieved when he couldn’t see it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It would hurt them both if he had a crush. Fortunately, if anything, thinking of Xelha made him calmer, not excited. And thinking of them as a couple just made him depressed, nary a sign of the sizzle and spark Trill gushed about from her coin-a-cart romance novels.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia merely giggled and granted, “Perhaps so.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Feeling his eyebrow climb, he sighed and went back to the map. “It’s a festival year, right? Maybe we use that as an excuse to approach the tree?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, we can certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>try</span>
  <em>
    <span>,” she said with no small degree of doubt, “And I suppose there’s no reason we cannot return at a later date to claim Che.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Lolo could get too invested in her plans for the capital, he laid a friendly arm across her shoulders. “Actually, there’s another aeon in Anuenue I’ve had my eye on. So many summoners go after the Canon Five that it’s not really the trial it’s supposed to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment’s thought, she chirped, “Huh, I guess you’re right! So, where to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Celestial Tree.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against his expectations, she agreed as easily to the destination as she had to the change in itinerary. Lolo shooed him towards her work desk with the task of retrieving any useful magnus from under the multitude of half-finished blueprints and chunks of wood. The tiny patch of neatness in the sea of an engineer’s chaos most likely belonged to Lady Death. It was confirmed when he found an <span>Al Fhard primer</span>, which, memories of the trifecta of naggers fresh in his mind, he picked up once he confirmed it was one he didn’t have yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the other side of the room, he heard Lolo muttering to herself as she dug through drawers and chests, at one point hopping out a window to do the same on the deck. Everything she discarded was tossed onto the floor until the whole room resembled her workspace. When she caught him staring, brow having long since disappeared into his bangs, she blushed and threw everything back into what even he could tell was not its proper place, haphazardly and with a guilty hunch to her steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving her to the bed she’d unmade, he went back to his own vague search. Inside the torso of a mostly assembled doll he found a treasure trove of magnus. A quick perusal revealed that all were filled with rotten food and broken equipment, as well as a dozen or so fishing poles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> where they all disappeared to! Not to it matters that much—Savyna catches them with her bare hands, like a bear! Oh, that reminds me of this one time—wait, I have photos in my scrapbook, just wait a sec….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas moved on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Oh no, don’t bother—I’m sorry it’s such a mess. You’re a guest, you shouldn’t have to clean….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignored her apologetic babbling and soldiered on resolutely; he wasn’t too hung up on cleanliness himself but he</span>
  <em>
    <span> was</span>
  </em>
  <span> used to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>certain level of care in one’s environment</span>
  </em>
  <span>, courtesy of the conscientious Larikush, fastidious Georg, and immaculate Fee. He was offended on his grandfather’s sake when he saw all of the high-quality tools languishing under a centimeter thick layer of sawdust.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How much is the infamous Lady Death wrapped around this woman’s finger</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wondered, borderline awed.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, barely anything was worth taking along besides some particularly high-grade meat, a first aid kit, <span>another primer</span> (this time Lolo’s—and wasn’t it adorable that she was trying to learn the language of her ‘honey-hubby’s’ renounced homeland), a pair of machetes, and the automatons Calca and Brina, who were Lolo’s most prized dolls and, apparently, better fighters than most humans. They exited the hut and took a basket down, by way of pulley system, Lolo chittering all the while about one thing or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until, that is, they passed through the gate of a picket fence enclosing the couple’s yard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She transformed into the jungle native she was, perking up at certain animal calls and hacking apart the vines invading the path. A part of him was relieved he wouldn’t have to keep up a constant stream of small talk—especially given the sweltering conditions—but as the hours went past, her undiminished intensity began to put him on edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was a survivor. All of his life he’d been hunted, forced to adapt to strange places, and jerked around by everyone he encountered. He knew when to posture and when to submit. And, trailing after Lolo and her unsettling creations, his gut screamed at him to melt back into the trees and take his chances with the olifants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How much did he know about Lolo anyway? When he thought about it, the Empire’s attack dog leashed by a hyperactive tinkerer became less amusing. Not to mention her skill with machina, made of wood though they were; perhaps she was another imperial expatriate? The only clue Lolo had given about her supposedly famed career was that it involved a waterwheel. It wasn’t the Al Fhard style, but it wasn’t as if he knew everything about his collective nemesis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe they used it in their off-island territories, like how they’d had to adjust the alloy used in the machina brought to Hassaleh, as the standard fair didn’t take well to the brambles and mist. Georg still complained about the mandatory overtime that he was forced to put in to get them functional. Kalas could see how hot, humid Anuenue would cause similar problems, given how muggy Hassaleh was said to have gotten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Narrowing his eyes, he stared at Lolo and compared her to the various imperials he’d known. They tended to have skin along the spectrum of dun, which she most definitely did not, though the aristocracy was commonly a good deal paler, as were Al Fhard in general. As such, he could only rule out the Al Zhani clan. Was it possible that she was a plant of some kind?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then why? It wasn’t as if the Empire could have known that he’d crash into the Holoholo Jungle… unless it was a setup. If he assumed that Guillo really was some kind of aristocratic Al Fhard assassin, it was possible that he listened in on their plans, reported in, and sabotaged their voyage in such a manner as to drop the precious Labasu Hqarl into imperial hands. But why go to such lengths to trick him when Lady Death had had him at her mercy? Such a convoluted plan only made sense if he assumed that the Empire </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> him to continue his pilgrimage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought gave him pause. Everyone knew that the Al Fhard were heretics intent on destroying Yevon, embracing Sin and all it wrought; while that common knowledge was inaccurate, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> true that they went out of their way to interfere with summoners. He himself had been captured on Sadal Suud. If Geldo-bastard wanted him to go through with it, he was sending some serious mixed signals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was ridiculous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Absurd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, it niggled at the back of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You left the Empire to become a summoner.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I wish I could say the same for you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I hadn’t heard that the doctors died. My condolences.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Death had thought that Gramps and Larikush were dead, and it was on account of Kalas having become a summoner. Logically, that would mean his grandfathers would be against him doing so. Gramps had never spoken a word against it—granted Kalas underwent the training in secret, the only teen amongst the candidates—and Larikush simply accepted it, though with some element of unhappiness. It made Kalas almost regret giving him the cold shoulder the past few days. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There’s something you need to know before you go any further.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas snorted, then waved off Lolo’s subsequent attention. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Every decision you’ve ever made has been playing into the Empire’s hands, boy’. Thanks, Papa, you really know how to time this stuff.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He mulled over his options, displeased but calmer now that he had a clearer picture of what was going on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo hadn’t had any opportunities to sell them out. Lolo probably wasn’t a plant to lure him into a false sense of security. If the Al Fhard wanted him to pilgrimage, the years of attempted kidnap were most likely so he’d do it on their terms. Therefore, so long as he kept up his guard and stayed the course, he could go about his journey without worrying that he was some cheap puppet, his deal with Melodia notwithstanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His next step was straight into Lolo’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reading the strained atmosphere, he bit back a complaint and let her pull him into a patch of dangling moss. Behind it was a tree hollow, dank and dark and disgusting. At first, Kalas squirmed in place, trying to shrink back from an insect here, a mold patch there. Then he heard it: a deep croaking call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Holoholo bird,” she gulped, “I think we got out of there in time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded sharply, then felt sap percolate down his spine alongside dread. “Lolo, it’s not going to try to hunt your dolls, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Even if it did, they’re right—“ She came to the same realization.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, there was a great thump—presumably the bird landing—followed by the whirring of the abandoned automatons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calc—“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her yelp was cut short as he jerked her back to the ground. “Are you out of your mind?!” he hissed, “I don’t want to die because you had to go attack the apex predator or whatever this thing is! Make a new set later.” He would’ve continued, had she not kicked him in his still tender stomach wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calca! Brina!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo scrambled against the loam to find purchase enough to jet out of their hiding spot, disappearing into the cacophony of battle. Not wishing to lose his only guide, Kalas swore under his breath and burst of the tree in a single wind-charged swing of his borrowed machete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he cleared the trunk, he dashed forward and called forth his wings. Above him, Lolo was bounding along the jungle branches like it was nothing, shouting down orders to her dolls to fall back, defend, heal, spin. It wasn’t until he rolled between the bird’s legs, used its tail to swing up, and brought the machete down on its beak that he had the brief satisfaction of knowing he’d been right on the mark about her true nature. Then he was thrown forward and she had to dive out of cover to save him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo’s feathers began at the nape of her neck, their rich purple hue indiscernible from her hair despite their iridescence, as the locks had gained it as well. They trailed down before flaring into the blue and orange of a parrot. At close quarters, he was surprised to find that they weren’t feathers at all but the panes of a butterfly wing, layered in such a manner as to mimic them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held him long enough for Kalas to stable himself, then released him in a midair twirl that easily transitioned into her flinging a wrench at the massive predator’s eye. He took advantage of the distraction to zoom around to its side and wallop its neck. While there, he wrapped a hand around its trailing chest plumage and yanked with his full body, claiming a prize that would surely net him enough gold to get himself a proper replacement for his staff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he didn’t foresee was a chick flinging itself to its mother’s defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was saved from being pecked into the ground by Calca’s knife, buried in the chick’s back while its owner stomped its way into a high-kicking dance number. Each step made the ground rumble and toss the birds around. The two chicks—how had he not noticed the one, let alone two? Kalas kicked himself for his inattention—were slammed hard enough to give out a distressed warble and expire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the Holoholo bird saw the fate of its offspring, it flailed its wings, sending all four of them onto their rears. Kalas was the first back on his feet, though it aggravated his injuries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brina, heal!” he snapped, eyeing the other two. Lolo was groggily coming to her feet but Calca appeared to be stuck in a hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brina did as ordered. It, too, began jerkily dancing, and within moments he found the bird attacking a flickering body double. The illusion lost opacity with each strike, but was nevertheless able to divert a number of mortal strikes. A false Lolo was hit as well, as she darted over to free Calca. Between their blades, magic, and the occasional sprucing up of a doll by Lolo, the Holoholo bird was eventually felled by the blood loss of their weak attacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Utterly weary, they sunk down into the shadow of its corpse and called it a night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” said Lolo, doing maintenance on her dolls while Kalas skinned one of the Holoholo chicks, “How’d you all meet?--your guardians, I mean. Since you’ve got....” She counted them out on her fingers. “…four and all. Usually the summoners who pass through here just have one or two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe that’s why they’re always dying.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The thought probably shouldn’t have made him smug, but then, he’d never claimed to be a good person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It just kind of happened,” he shrugged. Saying it aloud sent a strange feeling creeping through him and, with dull surprise, he realized that it was the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creaking of gears stopped. He looked up to find her expectant gaze on him, refusing to let him get away with the vague answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas sighed and dug down into his memory. “There’s really not that much to tell. I knew Papa and Melody from home—“ The less he said about </span>
  <em>
    <span>those</span>
  </em>
  <span> meetings, the easier a time he’d have spinning them later. “—and the other two happened to be going the same way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, that can’t be it! What about the skinless guy? I—ooh, that was really bad, sorry—I mean, you described him as—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guillo. He’s a little weird.” Though not weirder than her description of him. “He never takes off his cloak or goggles. Not to mention his machina.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo nodded slowly, disappointment crossing her face. “Machina, huh? Guess it isn’t the same guy after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas mentally rubbed his hands together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Time to fish for information.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Out loud, he asked, “You know the guy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmnn… I don’t think so….” She set her work aside and swung first to her feet, then to her toes, finally indicating a height well above either of them. “They were about yea high—if I’m remembering correctly anyway, it’s been about twenty years now?—and wore goggles and a hood and stuff, but I don’t think they used machina. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure they were a sage or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a definite no then—the Guillo I know is shorter than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that can’t be them.” A sigh. “Too bad we don’t have noodles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…What.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Guillo moved like a noodle—thinking about them always gives me a craving, you know? I wonder if they were double-jointed….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to demonstrate, all full-body undulations and hip swings. It was difficult to tell if the unnatural quality of the movements was intentional or merely the product of her lack of rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In any case, Kalas decided he didn’t need to know more and concentrated on roasting the birds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, they set out again, more confidently than before due to their burgeoning awareness of the other’s skills and weaknesses. He learned to keep still and let Lolo listen, to keep his machete at the ready for the thickets that were too much for her. For her part, Lolo caught on that he preferred not to summon unless absolutely necessary and how to work around his more-than-occasional lapse in teamwork. They spent an almost comfortable week in each other’s company before they managed to break through the jungle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spread out before them was a breathtaking cascade of water, tumbling down the dark, jagged slope of the island into a series of natural sluices. Under the colorful growths that covered all of Anuenue lay grey volcanic rock in a stair-like pattern. Eyes following the form of the land, Kalas spotted in the near distance a bridge slung with moss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where does that go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Oh.” Her voice took on an air of wistful regret. “Follow those bridges and you’ll get to Opu, the Waterfall Village. You can go if you want but I’m not really comfortable there.” Indeed, after the initial glance, she had studiously avoided gazing in that direction. “Although, riding the waterfall down </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be the fastest way to the Tree….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sent a dubious glance over the side of the closest cliff. While not the fastest current he’d ever seen, it would be a rocky road, to say nothing of the massive turtles he could see chasing after fish. “You want us to go in </span>
  <em>
    <span>there?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thanks but no thanks—I’ll take the long way if it means keeping my bones the way they—“</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SPLASH!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas hacked up a mouthful of algae and swam shoreward, not daring to call his wings until he could be sure they’d stay dry. By that time Lolo had joined him, surfing down in style on a log, wings out to make leaps where it jostled against rocks. The automata were clinging to her legs like children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be such a sourpuss!” she teased as he landed on their careening vessel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only his pride kept him from throwing his arms and legs around the log. That, and the fear that his head would be bashed in. “You’re insane! You—I can’t believe I let you—“ He was off by a mouthful of leaves, nearly losing his balance from the shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo merely laughed and whooped and casually booted an inquisitive bar-mool back into the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rapids jerked their makeshift raft this way and that with such vigor that he was shocked each and every time she hooked in her feet, grabbed a nearby vine, and shifted their course into an offshoot with a judicious flap of the wings. Rather than dizzy himself trying to keep up, Kalas put himself on lookout duty—a fortuitous decision, as it granted him a glimpse of one of the turtles before it slammed down into the center of the log.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An acheron!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The force of the acheron’s attack splintered the log in half. Kalas abandoned his side with a spring, Lolo doing the same just in time to avoid being slammed into a boulder. But the obstinate creature snapped at his wings, becoming enraged when it got a taste of metal and its own blood for its efforts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas pranced backwards midair, sweeping the scene. It was chaos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The acheron rampaging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water crashing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flashes of color.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Splashing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrapnel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Droplets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Splinters!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fiends!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Roaring!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clashing!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blinding!</span>
  </em>
</p><p><em><span>“Kalas!” </span></em><span>he heard dimly, </span><em><span>“Look! The Whale is real after all! What are you</span></em> <em><span>going to ask him?”</span></em></p><p>
  <span>“No… Fee, no! It’s—it’s not—“</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas and Fee—one in shadow, the other of light. But it was all wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“G-Get away!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“K-Kalas…? Why are you making that face…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Skin peeled back to ponderously reveal one monstrous eye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas! We need to keep going, while people are still distracted by the festival!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo’s shout broke through his panicked reverie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had nearly left her behind completely, mindlessly backing away into the jungle. The fiend had been joined by other hungry predators to converge on Lolo, whose only defense was a machete, wrench, and aerial maneuvers that made him feel the strain of his own overtaxed wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gritting his teeth, he leapt back into the fray, bending the wind around him to propel himself forward as if from a firearm. He used the momentum to barrel into Lolo and slam her and the dolls out of the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They landed on a sharp rock jutting out of the river.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calca, Brina!” she cried, gasping for breath, “Engage!” To Kalas she said, “The rapids—stepping stones—hurry!” And then she was off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just abandoning your toys—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then that they began making rather alarming noises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All their joints simultaneously dislocated.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wouldn’t have rigged them to self-destruct, would she?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided to take her advice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though his earlier attack had left him more than a little winded, he was able to dash along after her in short bursts. Lolo was far more graceful in the air than on the ground, twisting mid-leap to handspring off a narrow spire. The course correction allowed her to twirl into reach of a branch. She swung upwards and, alighting briefly, haunch to branch, sprang horizontally to a more advantageous break in the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fiends roared behind them but didn’t follow, struggling fiercely against some unseen threat. Kalas had no chance to dwell on it, as his exhausted limbs took all his attention to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over and under and side to side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stumble to shore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tumble into the river.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flap listless wings until he couldn’t feel them anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the greatest relief he could imagine when Opu came into view. At least it was until Lolo, without him having to gasp a word, landed on a hidden alcove near a large but motionless waterwheel. She drew him inside the connected building, which housed the mechanisms running it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at the array of machinery, the clues clicked together in his mind. “Pretty annoying that your ‘big commission’ wasn’t taken care of, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed in response, automatically moving to adjust the gears. “Why would they—this doesn’t belong here….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well-used to the habits of engineers, Kalas left her to it. They’d gone through their entire paltry supply of food and medicine early on, and he was eager to replace at least some of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The village was defined by its vertical sprawl, spread out across a number of levels that hugged the waterfall. Between stairways--carved cliff face interspersed with natural cleaving--and the moss-lined ropes and planks of the bridges, even the man-made elements held an air of primal growth. Children and adults alike navigated the slippery stone with the confidence born of a lifetime. Others, obviously outsiders, were forced to wingdash directly to their destination.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gramps is going to be mad,” pleaded Fee, but Kalas was already scrambling down the cobblestone wall. He must have turned to the bullies, for then he said, “Why aren’t you helping him? Take responsibility for your actions!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas gritted his teeth against the following laughter. Just a few armspans more and he would be able to low enough to break his fall without breaking his bones. A few minutes more and he’d have his winglet back. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then</span>
  <em>
    <span> he’d be able to defend his little brother.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“’Take responsibility’!” one sneered in reply, “What kid talks like that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, you think you’re better than us?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If one-wing down there is a freak, what does that make you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Guess you don’t have a heart at all!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Explains why his face is so freakishly blank.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The doc must’ve given up on him!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Must be why he doesn’t get winglets!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The momentary distraction of their inflammatory jeers had Kalas unthinkingly shifting his weight to his legs before they could find purchase in the slick wall. With a frightened yelp, he fell. The wind tore through his feathers with barely any resistance and the water below barely cushioned his fall. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“KALAS!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The water of Balancoire, while largely unpolluted, still stung at his eyes. He instinctively tried to breathe and choked. His flailing for the surface was hindered by his starving lungs, useless wing, and a strange fascination that gripped him when his eyes drifted down to the depths. Unlike the main streets, where the water level was low enough that even children could reach the bottom, the back alleys dipped into deeper troughs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bͪ͑ͩͬͭ͌ͪoͤͫ̏r̓͗̄̔ͮ̊n̈̅̂̾ ̐̆̄͆̄o͊̊͊ͫͤͣf̒ͬ͒̂͒̿ͫ ̋̋̑͋̾̏ͮṫ̏̽͋͑̐h͒̎ͧe̔ ͑ͪ̄̆Dͬ̿͆ͭ̈́a̓ͤ̅ͥ͗rͧk̎͐̊̾ͧͬ, ͯͪ͛̔f̈́͛ǔ͗ͧ́ͮͬ͂l̃͗̇̀̔ͧfiĺ͐l ̓̄́͛̊ͬṫͣ̇̔ͨͮh͑̆͊̎ͪ̍y͌̆ ͣ̓ò̎́ả̏ͮ͐͌ͤtͨͣ͛̒̆̆ͣh̑, it seemed to whisper. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas came back to himself, untensing one muscle at a time. His breaths were short and, without realizing, he’d summoned his wings. Convinced by the jitters running through him, he half walked, half flew down the steps to the market, not trusting himself to place his feet correctly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he reached the bustling lower level, he’d calmed down enough to look through the stalls. However, he did so distractedly, barely taking note of the wares before he glided by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need three eggs!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—spices, always spices—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—and I said to her, you can believe me—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Lady Xelha with my own eyes, I did!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storyteller’s audience snorted. “Why would a summoner go to that dusty old crypt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who am I to guess the mind of a summoner? Maybe she was proving her worth somehow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her Majesty </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> admit her very quickly… and in festival season too…,” they mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see?!” the other yipped back, “The queen must’ve seen something in her! We might have the next High Summoner in our nation right as we speak!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” The pair moved on, any other gossip swallowed up by the surrounding bustle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas felt a grin come on and let out a bark of laughter. “So you guys made it after all. What, are you made of iron or something?” Though he wouldn’t be surprised if Guillo turned out to be some experimental machina gone rogue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You buying, sir?” the shopkeep squeaked. The child looked ready to bolt at the faintly sinister (and mostly naked) stranger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed again. “Yeah, I’ll take some of those fish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he returned, Lolo was sleeping draped across the waterwheel mechanism. She muttered nonsensical jargon as he moved her to lay in front of the fireplace. He made to lay down himself, however, realizing how the scene would look—a woman in her early 30’s and a 17-year-old in filthy undergarments—he cast about for somewhere else to rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An altar he’d failed to notice earlier caught his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a deceptively simple slab of granite, nearly twice his height and shaped like an arch. The actual altar had two green glass vases filled with white calla lilies, one on either side of the extra block meant to be a bench, if the thin green pillow was any indication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing closer, Kalas was able to make out a figure carved into the stone. A single glance told him it was a depiction of Pixie, the aeon most summoners sought in Anuenue. The image was heavily stylized but he could see her sitting in a throne of leaves sheltered by what must have been the Celestial Tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, but I’ve got my own agenda,” he scoffed at her imperious expression, feeling very silly immediately afterwards. He sighed and, bowing sardonically, muttered, “Praise be to Yevon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were worse places to spend a night. He knew that firsthand.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The next day, they rose early for a simple breakfast of boiled fantail eggs. Then, under the golden dawn, they snuck out of the village as the residents were just barely stirring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though the previous day’s experience left Kalas reluctant, he couldn’t deny that “riding the waterfall” had shortened their journey considerably. He agreed on the condition that they would use an actual boat. When the light of the magnus cleared, he surprised himself with how fervently he hoped that she hadn’t stolen it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this how Papa feels?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The thought was sour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The calmer nature of their journey allowed Lolo to navigate more precisely than the previous day. Whereas the harrowing chase through the rapids to Opu had taken them well into the afternoon and left both too exhausted to do much of anything but sleep, their trip towards the Celestial Tree proved to be simple enough that, at times, Lolo could leave Kalas in charge while she took a quick nap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water only got rougher but she always seemed to know exactly where they were and when to follow a branching stream. The terrifying height of the falls said streams led Kalas to question more than once why he was still following her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a time, she steered them right at every one of the many forks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Does this mean we're getting close?" he shouted over the river's grumblings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh... I'm pretty sure it should be... right about...." Lolo slammed her paddle into a boulder barely in time to shove them down the correct path. The effort garbled her next words to incomprehensibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What was that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get your wings ready, 'Lassie!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?!" Then he spotted it. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Their speed slingshotted them off a cliff comparable in height to a city's spires. The waterfall, while narrow, had incredible power to it—as far from the ground as they were, he could see the disturbingly large number of wrecked boats that littered the rocks below. And the shores. To say nothing of those that had gotten caught by various crags and branches across the entirety of the trip down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lolo!"</span>
  </em>
  <span> was all he could think to yell, though inwardly he was quite a bit more verbose.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yevon's asscrack! You crazy idiot—are you trying to get us killed?! What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid parrot?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was enough to make him long for Lady Death. At least then he could trust his guide to contact an Al Fhard cruiser to swoop in and catch them.</span>
</p><p><span>"</span><em><span>Dammit, </span></em><span>if you get us killed</span><em><span>, </span></em><span>I'll hunt down</span> <span>your</span><em><span> unsent ass—"</span></em></p><p>
  <span>"Kalas, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wings!"</span>
  </em>
  <span> she scolded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was embarrassed to realize he'd been in a freefall the entire time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas called out his wings, for once grateful that only one was natural. The metal of the winglet cut through the air in a way that his real feathers couldn't withstand, helping him make up for those fatal few seconds of unchecked gravity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’d managed to right himself, Lolo lowered to hover beside him, pointing off towards two o'clock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight of the Celestial Tree centered under the sun's zenith was an astounding one. It had to be, at the very least, twice the height their trustworthy vessel was doomed to fall (for both had been too distracted by Kalas' alarm to think of pulling out a magnus until it had already sailed out of range). The leaves were green and gold and marvelous in a way that Kalas didn't normally associate with vegetation. What at first appeared to be gaping holes in the foliage seemed to be much too bright to be the sun peeking through—rather, the longer he stared, the more they appeared to be some kind of glowing baubles. It was more than some icon for treehuggers; it was a titan in plant form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wow, you're speechless," she laughed, "As much as I love the view, we might want to hurry down before our wings get tired."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...Right."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anything powerful enough to take</span>
  </em>
  <span> that </span>
  <em>
    <span>to hold it back</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he noted, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is probably way more than any human can handle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't as if he’d had much luck in controlling his other two Malperciac aeons. Ar was responsible for the wounds that still twinged after several rounds with Brina and Le had been a disaster, albeit one that mostly targeted his enemies.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Man, I really am an idiot, aren't I? Even if I back out now, those things are inside of me. Like that sin Yevon likes to yap about.</span>
  </em>
  <span> As always, thinking about Yevon dragged his mind back to that day, and his resolve hardened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It's too late to turn back.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and concentrated on the comfort of the wind chilling his face midflight.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was always too late. Malpercio will be mine or I'll die trying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun was as warm as the day Fee died.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That's the way things are.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo shuddered, either from the cold or the continued effort of gliding down. "Normally we would need to get permission and stuff to approach the tree, but they probably won't want to listen to us jabber on about some aeon no one’s ever heard of."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm guessing we'd normally be walking too?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right on! I thought it might make sense to fly directly into the branches," she called, making some motions to indicate the tree equivalent of a blueprint, "That way we can start at the top and make our way to the Veinroots if it comes down to it. I hope they left my gondola in place...."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, so how are you planning to fly that far?" The falls had tossed them but a short distance. The manner of their descent made the flight much easier than it would ordinarily be, but it would be nearly impossible for anyone other than a marathon flier to make it the full distance. And the idea of doing so </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> landing any higher than the ground was ludicrous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She winked at him over her shoulder and said in a sing-song voice, "Watch this~"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo peered around and, snapping her fingers at her success, flapped her way to a patch of air that wavered with heat. She flew straight into the updraft, which, to his surprise, carried her up a fair distance. Once she saw him following, she began actively seeking the thermals and using them to finagle her way higher into the air. He did note a certain urgency to her movements that suggested she, too, was feeling the burn of a longer-than-the-norm flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catching up, Kalas asked, "Hey, you're not going to crap out on me, right?" Perhaps if he had a full winglet set he could support them both, but he'd be lucky if he lasted with just his own body weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nnn, no worries!" Her vocal cords strained under the effort, "I do wish I'd brought my glider prototype though... shoot, what was I thinking?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I wonder." If Lolo had the ability to think of anything besides her lover and mechanical children, he'd yet to see significant evidence of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trip was brutal in a way that was both exactly how difficult he expected and far beyond what he could ever have put into words. The strain to his heart left him worried it would be damaged, like people occasionally talked about when someone lay comatose after too ambitious a workout. More and more he relied on his winglet, which, while connected to his nervous system, didn't strain him in quite the same way.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, at least something good came from being a one-winged freak,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he grumbled internally, annoyed that he was forced to find something positive in his most despised quality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ahead of him, Lolo cried out and swooned, wings vanishing as the distance proved too far. Kalas swooped down to catch her, eyes darting about for a safe place to land. He'd been so distracted by his suffering that he hadn't noticed how close they'd gotten to the tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glint of gold caught his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He used the last of his strength to propel them forward, cutting into a steep dive at the last minute to land by the suspicious spot. It turned out to be a half-hidden door affixed to the trunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jackpot," he panted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas pushed his guide unceremoniously out of his lap so that he could investigate. The door wouldn't budge no matter how hard he tried thanks to a number of small—at least compared to the rest of the tree—branches, similar in breadth and height to medium-sized lawn trees. These veritable twigs were still far too much for him to handle; he could tell that even if he was fully rested, his machete would barely scrape them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wh-what are you doing to the tree?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice, squeaky with fear, came from a little girl wearing an oversized flower as a hat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A kid?" he asked himself, ignoring her, "I thought only the Keepers of the Celestial Tree were allowed up here...."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Keeper, but you sure aren't!" she retorted, cheeks puffed out angrily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked her over appraisingly. "That so, huh? So you can tell me what's so special about this door?" He rapped it behind his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On what passed for the ground, Lolo moaned and sat up, clutching her stomach and head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's where the heart of the Celestial Tree is! If you try anything...." She held out her hands and formed an orb of concentrated energy. "I—I may just be an Apprentice Keeper, but I won't let you hurt her!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Relax, kid, I'm just looking for a scary fiend I heard was living here." It wasn't entirely a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A scary fiend?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," he said, putting some space between him and the door. He gave his most charming smile. "Sorry I was so rude before. I was just worried it might show up and hurt you. But since you're a Keeper and all, mind helping me get inside?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While still looking wary, she dismissed her power and considered it. "There really </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a fiend in there?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and held out his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"W-well, I suppose I can't let it stay and hurt the tree," she mumbled before accepting and shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know, right?" Kalas' amiable laugh seemed to do the trick of clearing away what remained of her tension, so he turned to his other surprise addition. "You holding up, Cid?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She groaned but made a gesture of assent. With his help, she wobbled to her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is Lo-Cid, and I'm 'Lassie." Her look of confusion was worth parroting back Lolo's nickname for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My name is Mayfee. I'll open the door now, alright?" Her motions were jerky, betraying just how flustered the situation left her. The same light as before flared briefly and coaxed back the branches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was about to swing open the door when he remembered that the next part wasn't for their eyes. "You guys should hang back for a sec, okay? You're not exactly frontline—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're in this together," said Cid firmly, calling her wings and wrench, "Calca and Brina may've been left behind but I can still fight whatever's in there!"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You really can't</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, wincing at the memory of how he came to be in her care in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"M-me too!"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Great, the little twerp is piping up too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm small, but I'm still a Keeper! I have a duty!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Welcome aboard, Mayfee!" Cid sounded entirely too giddy at the prospect of child endangerment. Considering what he'd experienced of her and Lady Death, it felt fitting enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure, come along. Not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> vote counts for anything." He rolled his eyes, which got him a sound ribbing—in more ways than one—from Cid. "So, can I open the door now, or do we need to make a motivational speech too?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mayfee looked to Cid to borrow courage and teased, "After you~"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm honored," he groaned, but playfully saluted anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened easily with the seal gone. They were met with rich petrichor and a humidity more akin to human breath than the heat of the jungle. The inside was lit with a strange, pulsing light, which, after a brief pause, synced with his heartbeat. While the Celestial Tree as a whole seemed like any other tree in spite of its size, its innards exuded a mysticism that felt older than the Sky itself, as if he was attempting to enter the body of a god.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shiver crept up his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was power there—an ancient power that cared not for the petty concerns of the schemer before it. He would die, and it would live on. Malpercio would rise, and still it would live on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cold sweat was next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We—" He swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. "It was a long flight here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm still pretty tired...," Cid agreed, gaze locked to their destination even as she turned aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's so...." Mayfee couldn't finish her thought. He had his doubts that it was something she'd ever be able to do, even should she look back at that moment at the end of her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The decision was made to enter in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three sat in dumbstruck silence until the waning day made the tree’s light all the more dominating, sparking them to hastily build as bright a fire as possible. Night fell, and they all trembled at the shifting of a great consciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made dinner of the food Kalas had bought the previous day. Fish, dates, and fruit garnished with edible jungle flowers made up the meal, with the addition of a nectar beverage offered by Mayfee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She provides for us...," she explained, hesitantly placing a hand against the bark, "...We owe her everything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas' throat felt tight. Cid only managed a strangled sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nectar was less sweet than it was heady and deep, overwhelming his taste buds and leaving them feeling burnt. He almost choked swallowing it, wondering if it was safe to drink. However, the tree's aura seemed to recede after it was imbibed, letting them plummet into an uneasy sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fee's dying screams woke Kalas to a moon hung directly overhead. At first he confused it for the ornaments he'd seen from afar—now identifiable as fruit—but the warm midnight breeze couldn't rattle it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him, Lolo was crying and shaking in her sleep, whimpering with each beat of the tree's core. Mayfee was barely doing better, jerking occasionally as if she'd been jabbed. Kalas himself felt his veins fill with electricity and let out a pained keen into the dark, the aeons in his heart answering with animalistic cries of their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked to the door and nearly retched in panic as indescribable as it was inexplicable. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why is this happening?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted to wail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas grit his teeth, huffed out his distress, and stood, letting trembling hands push open the door that he might stare into the heart of the tree. While not exactly painful, there was a discomfort that threatened to overwhelm him with each passing moment, almost as if he was attempting to breathe through a quilt. Behind him the others groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cast a dispassionate eye over his shoulder, taking care not to turn his back to the unknown, and considered his options. In the long run, it would be much easier if he concluded his business with the least amount of involvement necessary from outsiders. Furthermore, they were close enough that if he did require further assistance from them, they would probably awaken and join the battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cast light upon the darkened earth," he muttered, nearly sapping his willpower dry to take a step inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sparks went off in his blood and his ears rang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Save those lost in despair...."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandfather had sobbed for days after Fee died; it was that sound that echoed in his skull, pounding his mind into a fine mush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"O Mighty Ocean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raspy intonations rose into a proper cantor…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…guide us…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> …as befitted a summoner of Yevon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…as we journey through…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His footsteps sounded distant, and he noted that he could barely feel the wood beneath his feet. The hollow had a unique acoustic design that echoed his cadences until they swallowed all other sound. Insectival songs, nocturnal yowling, the agitated slumber of his temporary guardians—all of it submerged by the hymn of the fayth. Dozens of contradictions fought one another, his voice shattered and disjointed and imperfect and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“…the darkest pit of night….”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 6/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 2/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. In Which Ghosts Cling Like Shrouds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>“You need to keep trying!”</p><p>“Kalas has a… difficult time processing others failing him. He needs space.”</p><p>Larikush, she’d learned, was considerate to the degree of counterproductivity: ever conscious of others’ needs but liable to coddle them when those conflicted with their desires.</p><p>“It’s not fair that he keeps treating you like this!”</p><p>“I can see the person he truly is. I will not let myself falter until he feels comfortable unmasking that man.”</p><p>Guillo was understanding to a fault: caring and tolerant and likely doomed to be used and abandoned by those with no cares but their own ambitions.</p><p>“I just can’t seem to talk any sense into them!”</p><p>“You poor dear, a heart as tender as yours shouldn’t be forced to carry this weight.”</p><p>Melodia was relentlessly kind: listening and giving advice over and over, no matter how much Xelha felt she was whining.</p><p>Xelha felt her mouth angle downwards into a determined frown. One way or another, she wasn’t going to sit through a fourth day of their nonsensical infighting. It has already lead to Kalas drawing back, Guillo buzzing with nerves, strained conversation at her nightly tea time with Larikush, and forced Melodia to take space from it all on the deck. Not to mention the invisible sixth presence in their company.</p><p>
  <b>His sleep is no longer feigned—you need not any of these interlopers! Let their remains become carrion on the tainted earth below!</b>
</p><p>She set down her fish paste wrap, tested her left arm for improvement, and pointedly ignored her foremothers’ collective consciousness.</p><p>“Guillo is having tea with Larikush,” Melodia offered knowingly, steering her towards the deck with a playful shove.</p><p>And indeed he was. True to his promise, Larikush had managed to obtain a larger kettle from the ship’s storage, which he had sitting over a small flame. She could smell chamomile, lavender, rose hips, ginger, and turmeric, among other spices she couldn’t properly identify. The pair had their heads thrown back into a long draught, settling back into place when their cups were drained.</p><p>“Th-thank you, doctor,” said Guillo, whose voice came out thick, as if he’d been weeping, “You have put my mind at ease.”</p><p>“Think nothing of it, boy.” He turned to Xelha and beckoned her over. “So nice of you to join us, Xelha. Care for a cup?”</p><p>Guillo’s spine shot up straight and rigid.</p><p>“I’m sorry if I startled you... I had no idea you two were having such a serious discussion.” She thought about reversing course.</p><p>Fortunately, he recovered and extended his own invitation, which she was quick to accept. She could only hope that spending time with him would jog her memory of their first meeting, as the godcraft had refused to recount their conversation beyond what the others knew.</p><p>"Ah, no, we—" Larikush's hand landed on his forearm and Guillo cut himself off, "It is always a pleasure, Miss Xelha. How is your head doing?"</p><p>Her fingers drifted up to trace the scab on her forehead. "It's healing nicely, thank you for asking." In truth, the progress seemed slowed somehow, as if the wound was infected. She made a mental note to use one of the potions the next time she was alone.</p><p>Thinking of one stubborn injury reminded her of the other item ailing her. The shoulder damaged in her battle with Ayme hadn't improved, though it at least failed to get worse. More worrying was the fact that healing spells and potions alike consistently had no effect on it, which was uncommon outside of severe trauma such as brain damage and the loss of a limb. More than anything she was relieved that Barnette hadn't strongarmed her way into the journey, as she no doubt would insist that it was an omen, just like her dreams.</p><p>Larikush smiled and handed her a teacup. "I'm glad to hear it." </p><p>Breathing in the steam calmed her nerves, momentarily transporting her to days spent on her mother's knee with spiced wine. When she took a sip, the taste, too, brought her back, though more in its richness than actual flavor.</p><p>"I've never had anything like this!"</p><p>He chuckled. "It's a personal blend. With how difficult it is to obtain Al Zhani spices and seasonings, I've experimented a great deal over the years to find something that suits my taste."</p><p>She hummed into her tea. The atmosphere was so pleasant she almost didn't dare speak her mind.</p><p>Guillo, perhaps sensing the shift in mood, hung his head and murmured with tangible sincerity, "I have been trying.... My impression is that he thinks he is being friendly."</p><p>"That sounds like my Kalas." Larikush flicked his eyes her way and Xelha knew that they were expanding their circle.</p><p>She picked up the train. "This withdrawal... is it normal for him? It's already been three days...."</p><p>"It's only human to hold a grudge," was his thin-lipped reply, "and Kalas is very human."</p><p>"But is it very <em> Kalas </em>?" she pressed.</p><p>"...Yes and no. The boy can gnaw old bones like no other, but his resentment usually burns brighter."</p><p>"So we can't rule out the possibility of a darker influence at play."</p><p>Guillo remained still throughout the exchange, but she got the impression that his eyes were flicking between them.</p><p>"The dark aeons he's been communing with...." Rather than voice his speculations, Larikush called a long, narrow pipe into existence, ponderously filling it with aromatic leaves. He chewed the stem, declining her offer to light it.</p><p>Guillo lifted his hood slightly and leaned into the scent. "Is it a matter to be concerned with, Doctor?"</p><p>"I believe the Lady Summoner would know more about the subject."</p><p>"These aeons...." She bit her lip.</p><p>“I understand your reticence, but your duty as a guardian comes before familial loyalty.”</p><p>Holding back her amusement was perhaps her greatest challenge yet. Though she normally didn't care for parading her rank about, picturing their dumbstruck expressions to learn the ramifications of the phrase 'familial loyalty' as it pertained to her made her huff out a quiet laugh. "Well, there really isn't much I can tell you. I'm afraid most of the ancient records were left behind with distant kin."</p><p>"Is there no way of contacting them?" asked Guillo. Her heart ached for his ignorance.</p><p>"Doing so would be... problematic. Messages are few and far between... I can't even say for sure that they're still alive." The last Wazni to have visited the earth had died generations ago. "More importantly, we need to find a way to stop Kalas from obtaining the secret aeon hidden on Anuenue."</p><p>Larikush nodded slowly, teeth lightly scraping against the pipe. "How many more are there?"</p><p>"He summoned the aeon 'Le' in the Shrine of Winds, as well as 'Diablos' when we fought the Iron Beetle," said Guillo, ticking off each summon on his fingers.</p><p>Xelha thought back to before the other two had joined. "When I first became his guardian, he had just come out of the Cloister of Trials in Moonguile Temple. At the time, I assumed he'd obtained Leviathan."</p><p>"Mira, Sadal Suud, and Diadem." Larikush frowned at their tally. It wasn't difficult to see the pattern. "That leaves Anuenue and Alfard."</p><p>"That's all I can say. Like I said before, I don't know very much about this subject," she replied, "How about you? I know you want to tell Kalas first...."</p><p>His head bowed and his body sunk into a smaller, tighter space. "...Georg and I, we—" Without warning, he jerked back upright.</p><p>Guillo was already on his feet, machina drawn and searching for the threat. Though at first she couldn't see anything amiss, she gradually noticed a low hum filling the air. Accompanying it was a sweet pungency that, after a moment's thought, made her think of Guillo's perfume. Finally concentrated enough for her to properly smell, she identified a nutty undertone, subtly spicy and floral.</p><p>She got an even better whiff when Guillo slammed her bodily into the ground, anchoring them in place just before the<em> Mindeer </em> swerved to avoid another skyliner.</p><p>Once he let go, she nodded her thanks and took flight to better observe the situation.</p><p>The ship, of ambiguously Sadali make given its culturally eclectic patch jobs, was twisting and wheeling and diving to avoid a veritable rain of fire—or rather, the blasts of red light bursting sporadically from its imperial pursuer. It took a moment more for her to identify it.</p><p>Flitting back into the cabin, where the others had already gathered, she gasped, "It's the <em> Goldoba </em>! The other crew must be a summoner's retinue!"</p><p>"<span>Bethrasb lysb!</span>" snarled Larikush from the helm. Though he handled it expertly, it was clear that the differences between machina engines and a linerfish was proving to have less than negligible impact on his steering capabilities.</p><p>"I'll stay on deck!" she called. As a black mage and summoner, she was their best option for aerial offense.</p><p>Melodia rose from where she was cradling Kalas—who had either bumped his head or was an impossibly heavy sleeper—and walked briskly to join her. "I believe I may be of some assistance while our resident white mage has his hands full."</p><p>"I as well." Guillo sounded oddly tense for a machine.</p><p><em> Then again </em> , she noted, <em> his aura reads as human as any other. I've seen his wings, withered as they are. The ancient wizards truly were a wonder, to be able to create a soul. </em></p><p>"Go!"</p><p>They did.</p><p>"<em>Protectara Wall! Reflectara Wall! </em>"</p><p>"<em>Aquara Burst! </em>"</p><p>The <em> Goldoba </em>veered upwards to avoid its own blasts, curving and turning into an arc that placed it abeam to their port.</p><p>"Brace for impact!" screamed Guillo, shooting out a beam of solid pink light. With the combined force of his wings and the recoil from his machina weapon, he vaulted to the roof of the <em> Mindeer </em>.</p><p>"Impact?!" she exclaimed.</p><p>
  <em> Surely they wouldn't— </em>
</p><p>An instant later it had rammed them.</p><p>Xelha was flung head over heels by the resulting shockwave, biting back a shriek as her arm was forced out of its newly limited range. Melodia was worse off—having stayed with her feet on the deck, she was catapulted upwards, just barely avoiding bashing her head in against a stray plank. Guillo had to scramble not to tumble into the Taintclouds below.</p><p>"The <em> Mindeer </em> can't take another hit like that!"</p><p>Heeding Larikush's concerns, Melodia hovered clear of all three ships and set about more thoroughly protecting them.</p><p>"<em>Shell Wall! </em>"</p><p>Realizing what she was doing, their foe deployed several imperial walkers. They spun their 'arms' with such velocity they flew as well as any winged being.</p><p>"<em>Windara Blow! </em>"</p><p>The units were scattered, sparking and rattled and easily picked off by Guillo. Entrusting their healer's protection to him, Xelha wheeled about to face down the <em> Goldoba </em>, which had put up shields of its own, as evidenced by a subtle rose glimmer in the air around it.</p><p>"<em>Haste Stream! </em>"</p><p>Larikush used the speed boost to regroup with the third vessel. Up close, she was able to make out the worn name decorating the starboard bow.</p><p>"Hail, <em> Yesterbean </em>!" she called, keeping a wary eye on their mutual enemy as she alighted upon their deck, "We're the guardians of Summoner Kalas. We're here to help!"</p><p>"Praise <em> Yevon </em>!" came a voice from within the ramshackle cabin, "Wacho, you take the wheel." Though sonorous, there was a slight nasal quality that robbed it of any element of intimidation.</p><p>"I've <em> had </em> the fucking wheel, dipshit!" Contrary to the harsh expletives, Wacho's timbre was melodious velvet, an inviting tenor to his companion's bass.</p><p>Striding onto the deck was a man barely taller than her. His slender but strong build was clothed in what she was shocked to recognize as Hassalite garb.</p><p>He wore an ankle-length cape of wild white fur that extended into a full mantle, ending at the base of the neck, where a strap of faintly pink leather acted as a high collar. A metal frog closure held it in place. Underneath it was a tight, single-strapped magenta croptop with gray stripes as the bottom and slanted right hem. His right arm had an orange leather vambraces (with the same grey lining as his shirt) and a magenta archery glove. The left forearm was wrapped in ribbons of pink, orange, and grey, pinned in place by silver studs.</p><p>Just below his navel rested a round silver buckle imprinted with a thorny rose. It held in place two thin belts running diagonally above and below his bare, sharply defined hip bones to form a wide cross. A large quiver hung from his right hip. To the lower section of each belt was joined a dark turquoise half skirt, underneath which was a pair of baggy dark green pants. Flared canvas detachable boot cuffs were tied in place over his calves, the actual shoes being a pair of leather sandals.</p><p>The man’s skin was a medium bronze. From his biceps to just below his chin he was decorated with a tattoo of thornflower vines. Wine-red eyes matched his unruly russet hair, which was tied back into a ponytail. On either side of his face hung a stray lock, colorful beads of wood, bone, and shells weighing them down.</p><p>“My name is Xelha,” she said. As much as she burned with questions, the survivor of the sunken island had likely been long since exhausted of answering them.</p><p>He extended the Eye of the Whale in traditional Hassalite fashion: a thirty degree bow and backwards-bent fingers. “Summoner Tik, at your service!”</p><p>“You assholes going to sip tea all day, or can we take these guys down?!” Wacho snapped, following the <em> Mindeer’s </em> lead as both heavily damaged ships darted around the imperial dreadnought.</p><p>Though the situation was grave, she couldn’t help but tease, “We put our tea down the moment you showed up.”</p><p>There was a brief pause, and then the newcomers were chortling.</p><p>“I <em> really </em> needed that.” Indeed, Tik was standing taller for the moment of levity.</p><p>She could almost hear Wacho rolling his eyes. “What you need is to sic Ixion on that shit-waxed im-<em> piss </em>-ial shitcan before it beats the shit out of us.”</p><p>Tik groaned playfully but slid into a summoning stance. “Can your people keep them off of us?”</p><p>“Almost certainly.” She mirrored his pose.</p><p>Though his brow shot up faster than the lasers flitting every which way about them, he didn’t surrender his concentration.</p><p>“<em>Arise, Ixion! </em>”</p><p>“<em>Shiva, lend me strength!” </em></p><p>Electricity rent the sky and a white-maned black stallion burst forth, the lightning issuing from the concave horn jutting out from betwixt its eyes. As it charged, a cloud of frost spiraled around it, finally coalescing into Shiva riding sidesaddle.</p><p>With an imperious gesture, she hurled a javelin of ice at the <em> Goldoba </em>, piercing halfway through it. A thin line of crackle followed in its wake, connecting to her steed’s horn. In a not-entirely-metaphorical flash, Ixion had travelled the path and rammed the ice further into the hull. The aeons swelled with built-up energy, exploding into a wave of sparks that short-circuited the machina ship.</p><p>The <em> Mindeer </em> slowed to hover beside the <em> Yesterbean </em>.</p><p>“That won’t stop her for long,” said Larikush.</p><p>Already power was returning one section at a time.</p><p>Wacho snorted. “Then what the hell are we still doing here?”</p><p>The two helmsmen began settling the details of how much further the damaged ships could reasonably be expected to travel, leaving the remaining companions to stare down their foe, silent and pensive. Xelha crossed back to the <em> Mindeer </em> to find that, with as much punishment as they’d been dealt, Kalas at some point had been moved from the splintered cabin to the marginally safer deck. Someone had sloppily lashed him to the stub that was the stern bowsprit, like a parody of a figurehead.</p><p>Xelha had no time to check the knots, however, as the <em> Goldoba </em> made their decision for them. Though its innards were exposed, the ship began closing the distance with a distressed wail of its engines.</p><p>“Damn fool boy,” Larikush muttered, the rest of his undertalk unintelligible—first through his thickening accent, then as he slipped into his mother tongue.</p><p>She caught sight of a green and brown figure—whom she had to assume was Wacho—bounding across the gap between helms in a flash of heart wings. And then they were off, the summoners’ entourage limping away from their soot-blackened pursuer. The hits they’d taken had worn down both Melodia’s shields and their ability to maneuver, but thankfully it seemed that the <em> Goldoba </em> was similarly hindered in the firepower department.</p><p>“<em> P-Protect Wall…. </em>”</p><p>The spell only barely took.</p><p>Tik called out a white recurve bow and, wind swirling around him, made his shot, a red cross briefly flaring into existence upon the arrow finding its mark. His untiring volleys were joined by the faint staccato shots of Guillo’s machina. Between taking down waves of imperial walkers, he focused on the ship itself, hurling odd disks and blasting them into his target. A surge of water. Thunderous shockwaves. The hammer of time. Rocked by the elemental explosions, the <em> Goldoba </em> showed signs of slowing down.</p><p>“I’ll finish you!” cried Xelha, flying upwards and forward, “<em> HOLIAGA FLARE!” </em></p><p>Orbs of light spiraled out of her wand and around her body, drawing her energy into themselves before rocketing off to orbit the enemy. One by one they struck the ship. Then, like a lone oak in a thunderstorm, light comparable to the sun itself struck, attracted to its kindred.</p><p>Xelha sank to the deck, utterly exhausted.</p><p>“The hell?!”</p><p>“I bet you could take down Sin with that!”</p><p>“Miss Xelha, that was incredible!”</p><p>“Holy magic from a black mage?”</p><p>“You’re full of surprises, dear heart~♥~”</p><p>In their awe over her spellwork, none had noticed just how close they had drifted to Anuenue.</p><p>Nor had they noticed their summoner slipping from his bonds.</p><p>“<em> Kalas! </em>”</p><p>Dredging up energy she didn’t really have, she caught him on the winds and pulled with all her might. But her strength was rapidly failing and she could only watch, helpless, as her magic did little but stagger his fall onto the island below.</p><p>“<span>Zku thzuutasb suvkosaths koth noarul!</span>”</p><p>For once less than serene, Melodia snapped, “In Yevonese, please!”</p><p>“The ground!” shouted Guillo.</p><p>They all looked below, only to see the Sky.</p><p>Then forest.</p><p>A distant city.</p><p>“<em><span>Dtezuvzobo Korr! Oyze-Tufaobo Thztuos!</span>” </em></p><p>When had Larikush emerged?</p><p>“You need this!” Guillo aimed his machina at each of them in turn. Shot.</p><p>Her panic combined with a sense of invincibility.</p><p>“<em>Protectara Wall! Protectara Wall! Protectara Wall!” </em></p><p>She found herself huffing a laugh at the sight of Melodia chugging down every curative she could get her hands on. One she tried to drink so fast it ended up in her eyes. Her makeup ran.</p><p>
  <b>Foolish daughter of the frost! Have you taken leave of your senses?!</b>
</p><p>They crashed.</p><p>The many layers of white magic served to cushion them, and yet her body still felt like one massive bruise.</p><p>“We’re… alive?” panted Tik, crawling out of the wreckage of his ship, “Oh man, we just repaired her!” He prodded at it mournfully.</p><p>If Kalas was awake, she just knew he’d be making some quip about the lack of difference between before and after.</p><p>She turned this way and that. “Is Kalas…?”</p><p>“Everything was so jumbled I didn’t see where he fell. However,” said Melodia, brightening back to her usual perkiness, “he knows the pilgrimage as well as anyone. I’m sure he’ll be just fine~♥~”</p><p>“Then shall we make our way to Komo Mai?” asked Guillo, who, she realized, having calmed down, had comported himself with greater confidence, authority, and aggression than she had ever witnessed from him before.</p><p><em> I suppose it’s just more proof that this is what he was born to do. </em> The thought saddened her—not only on account of her own purpose, but also that such a kind, human soul wouldn’t be able to experience life as it should be. <em> Maybe I can protect him too. There’s no reason a godcraft can’t be allowed to live his life now that his duty has been fulfilled. A normal life in a normal home, living like any other…. </em></p><p>The vision of a boy cradling his lost brother stabbed through her heart. She refused to let herself imagine taking his hand, leading him through the streets of Cursa with <em> cheeks flushed from cold and laughter, skating and throwing snowballs and lounging by the fire with warm herbal liqueur grown in her personal greenhouse— </em></p><p>“—Xelha?”</p><p>“That sounds like a good idea,” she said quickly.</p><p>The previously unseen Wacho groaned. “Creepy building it is.”</p><p>He was almost as big as Gibari, tall and broadly built. He wore the same croptop as Tik, though his was brown with lime green lining. There was also a second, much looser layer over the opposite shoulder. The fabric extended halfway down his arm and was tied in place below his right ribs. Both arms were covered by layered full-arm vambraces and leather gloves, over which rested a pair of wickedly spiked knuckle dusters. He wore a single shoulder pad on his right side, which was green and veiny like a leaf.</p><p>A pair of maroon suspenders held up a spiked belt of the same shade and, by extension, a skirt seemingly patterned after flower petals. It began as teal but progressively became a lighter and warmer blue where it ended just above the knees. Fur leg warmers and leather sandals completed the ensemble.</p><p>His hair, wilder even than Tik’s, was kept out of his face by a pair of braids that disappeared into the jutting strands of the back, as well as a headband of maroon and green triangles. Perched atop his head was the strangest element of all: a ratty, undersized hat that had clearly been repaired nearly as often as the <em> Yesterbean </em>. A button was held in place by a large pin, giving it the appearance of a beret. It also held in place a makeshift veil, folded to form three layers.</p><p>The others turned to face the topic of the discussion she’d missed: a dilapidated building in the near distance, perched upon the sole patch of barren crags in the whole of Anuenue.</p><p>Guillo piped up, “It certainly is a discomforting prospect. However, won’t the Empire feel the same way? Anyone can tell just by looking that the structural integrity is… lacking; I imagine that they would be willing to assume that even the desperate would not be so foolish as to risk setting foot inside.”</p><p>Throwing up his arms, Wacho snarked, “I love it when the smartest idea is also the dumbest.”</p><p>Melodia smiled, eyes crinkling. “Now, now, with as talented a gathering as we have here, what is there to fear?”</p><p>Immediately after she finished speaking, a vicious crack of thunder lanced through the clear sky and struck a nearby tree.</p><p>Larikush broke the ensuing silence with a cough. “Scientifically speaking, it’s not uncommon for lightning to travel quite some distance from its origin.”</p><p>“’From its origin’?” Tik echoed shakily.</p><p>All around them were skies the cheery blue of a morning glory. Xelha took a deep breath of the bloom-scented air, let the sea within wash away her worries, and took the first step. The sun was warm on her skin but not oppressively so, making it easy to pretend she was on a pleasant afternoon stroll.</p><p>Sure enough, one moving forward was enough to spur on the rest, the group of six making excellent time. They kept quiet out of fear of drawing the attention of fiends or any Al Fhard that might have decided to pursue on foot. The sun had just set into a plumerian sky when they arrived at the crumbling keep.</p><p>Though its appearance had initially been unsettling, it became almost romantic in the lingering rosy glow. There was a pleasant tingling energy to the air, which was thick with the smell of ripe mangoes and aged parchment. As they padded into the foyer, the air, though stale, was hardly unpleasant, smoky yet sweet from the tobacco and perfumes of bygone visitors.</p><p>“What are you doing here?!”</p><p>They collectively jumped, first at the sudden appearance of an irate Anuenuan, then at the very abrupt and noisy arrival of a true thunderstorm. Thanks to the frequent flashes of light arcing across the sky, they were able to catch glimpses of the deluge they’d just missed. So much water was raining from the sky and with such force that it almost completely muffled the near-continuous waves of thunder.</p><p>The native’s face, lit ominously by the storm, was twisted with desperation. Xelha found her clothes clutched by his claws—surely a trick of the light?—as he begged, “Turn back! Please, turn us all back! Before the curse gets us too!”</p><p>“Wh-what curse?” asked Tik.</p><p>“I—I dare not speak of it!”</p><p>“What, is this place haunted or something?” scoffed Wacho. When the man’s only reply was a moan, he ripped him away from Xelha and slammed him into a nearby table. “Are you saying there’s unsent or a fiend or whatever?!”</p><p>“Wacho!” she scolded, the rising tensions emboldening her, “There are no unsent here! Let him go—he’s clearly not thinking straight!”</p><p>As if to prove her point, his head snapped back and he let out a bloodcurdling wail, tapering off into frantic, muttered denials.</p><p>Letting go, Wacho turned back to her. “You sound awfully sure.”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>Perhaps her troubles made their way onto her face, for Larikush came to her rescue. “Xelha is a wisewoman. Her uncanny knowledge has saved us many times over, and all she asks in return is that we respect her oath to keep her family’s knowledge secret.”</p><p>She sent him a grateful smile. Not only would it be a betrayal to explain herself, it would also discredit her sanity were she to do so.</p><p>Instead, she took advantage of the deflection and addressed the somewhat calmed Anuenuan. “You said ‘us’… does that mean that there are more of you here?”</p><p>“Y-yeah,” he replied, sidling away from them as soon as he was released, “I’m Hehena, secretary to the mayor of Opu. There’s a whole group of us on the second floor.” He hung his head. “If you’re going to insist on staying here, let us at least offer what hospitality we can. Ours is a difficult island to pilgrimage to.”</p><p>“Where is ‘here’? And why do you remain if this place is cursed?” asked Guillo as they followed Hehena up a flight of stairs to the right of the entrance.</p><p>“The Ancient Library of Magic,” he answered, pausing to let another bout of thunder pass, “We came as a search party to find a lost child.”</p><p>Wacho stroked an imaginary beard. “Isn’t Opu on the other side of Holoholo? Pretty long way for some kid to get lost.”</p><p>“Ah, yes, well….” They waited, but he cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Ah, Sirius! I found these people just before the storm hit!”</p><p>Ahead of them, another man stood poised in a doorway. Sirius was in full summoner regalia as few wore it—she could count up to four layers to his kimono, a high collar formed of oyster mushrooms, and, holding it together, five lacewing-thin layers of obi, the bows of which hung like petals to fashion a waterfall skirt. From head to foot he was green and gold, even possessing golden hair and tawny eyes much like hers.</p><p>He waited for them to join him on the landing and gripped Hehena’s forearm with a relieved smile. “Thank the gods you returned! We were all worried!”</p><p>“The others aren’t mad?”</p><p>“Not in the slightest.” He turned to the new arrivals. “Did I hear a stomach rumble? Come right this way!”</p><p>“Summoner Sirius was kind enough to join us in our search,” Hehena whispered, ushering them through the door.</p><p>The room beyond was enormous, though the true size was difficult to determine under the absolute maelstrom of books and bookcases and general untidiness.</p><p>“Sorry for the mess~!” Sirius quipped with a wink.</p><p>Winding their way to the opposite wall, they found a group of about ten villagers seated beside a carefully maintained fire spell. Two obvious outsiders were among them: one almost entirely hidden by their oversized brown cloak and the other….</p><p>“Miss Xelha!” gasped Guillo, glancing between the two of them, “How fortuitous! To think we would encounter one of your countrymen in a place like this!”</p><p>Xelha could only watch helplessly as the other Wazni summoner stiffened at her name. She was young—younger even than Xelha herself—and wore a full-length blue kimono with sleeves sewn in the bishop style, paired with rabbit fur slippers. Over these was a long, short-sleeved, hooded cloak hemmed with traditional Wazni patterning much like her own sash. To her credit, her subject managed to keep the flame from wavering despite her queen’s spontaneous entrance.</p><p>Deciding to limit the damage as much as possible, Xelha squatted down beside her. “My name is Xelha. I don’t believe we know each other?”</p><p>Fortunately, the other seemed to catch on, lilac eyes darting to each face in turn. “I’m Odette! Glad to meet you!” Her voice was shrill with enthusiasm and nerves. She couldn’t be older than fifteen. Eager to please, she rattled off the names of all the villagers, ending with the cloaked figure. “And this is Summoner Rheong. If it weren’t for them, I might not have made it this far….”</p><p>“Nonsense,” said Rheong, speaking so softly it was difficult to hear the word. They shifted slightly and the cloak parted to reveal a plain brown tunic, filthy leg wrappings, and a pair of geta. A few strands of navy hair slipped out of the hood as they made minuscule movements. Xelha was saddened to realize they were examining the newcomers for threats.</p><p>And so she rose and pointed to each of her companions in turn. “These are Summoner Tik and Guardian Wacho, whom we’re travelling with right now. Our summoner, Kalas, got a little lost.”</p><p>“’<em>Your’ </em>summoner?!” Odette seemed ecstatic for reasons Xelha couldn’t comprehend.</p><p>“Yes, myself, Melodia, Larikush, and Guillo are—“</p><p>“<em>Guillo?! </em>” This time it was Tik and Wacho who interrupted her. They immediately crowded around him.</p><p>“Ah, yes?” </p><p>Wacho narrowed his eyes. “<em>Guillo. </em>” His tone stilled all present.</p><p>Guillo shrunk in on himself.</p><p>The duo from Hassaleh exchanged a look as heavy as it was lengthy. All watching held their breaths, instinctively waiting to see what monster the pregnant silence would bear. Finally, Wacho turned away, teeth gritted and hand pulling his hat closer to his head. Tik sighed and held out a hand that Guillo meekly accepted.</p><p>A nervous giggle bubbled out of Odette. Having broken their collective attention—or at least having redirected it—she turned an anxious yet strangely eager face to Xelha. “S-so, Lady Summoner, you changed your mind about Shiva’s Pilgrimage?”</p><p>“What?” she said, frozen from the strength of her horror. Confronted with the reality of her betrayal of her subjects—how could she have been so naïve as to think she could dismiss her guilt as easily as her guards?—Xelha was quick to reassure, “It’s not like that! I’ve given up on the <em> Summoner’s </em> Pilgrimage, not Shiva’s.”</p><p>“But why?!” Odette seemed even more upset somehow. “You don’t have to… we’ve survived just fine so far!”</p><p>“Odette?”</p><p>“Let our goddess rest,” she said, eyes shining with sincerity.</p><p>“…What…?”</p><p>“Let me take your place! I’ve trained all my life so I could save our beloved—“</p><p>“Stop!”</p><p>She recoiled as if slapped.</p><p>Xelha knelt at her feet. “You must be very talented to make it this far at your age,” she said, voice softening, “Use that talent to lead our people in the coming Calm.”</p><p>“No!” Face set in a snarl of defiance, her concentration wavered and she was struck by the backlash of her spell.</p><p>“Lady Odette!” cried several of the townsfolk, as well as the ever-diligent Guillo.</p><p>He reached out to brush away the embers. However, before his hand could make contact, Rheong had launched themself away from the group. After a moment of confusion, Xelha realized why:</p><p>His machina was exposed.</p><p>“It’s not what you think!” she insisted as Odette and Larikush retrieved their respective companions, the former wincing in pain at the burns.</p><p>Rheong’s voice hissed like a blade absconding its hilt. “That man is Al Fhard! The enemy of Yevon!”</p><p>“If so, ‘that man’ has fought many of his own to safeguard Summoner Kalas as his guardian,” said Melodia, placing a placating hand upon their arm, “So please, there’s no need for fighting, is there?” Winsome lashes fluttered.</p><p>When they showed no signs of listening, Guillo added softly, “By Yevon’s name, I am no Al Fhard.”</p><p>They backed down and away to sit at the fringe of the firelight, eyes blazing with mistrust. For his part, Guillo laid down his weapon and settled close to the fire, where every action could easily be seen. He hunched over, as if to shrink away entirely, though his well-maintained armor made it impossible to avoid notice.</p><p>The rest of the newcomers followed his lead: Xelha sat with Odette, Larikush next to Guillo, and Melodia at enough of a distance to watch their backs.</p><p>With her fellow witch she played a Wazni children’s game while they waited to be served. Control of Odette’s spell was passed back and forth, each judiciously adding and subtracting intricacies to it to make their turn easier and the other’s harder, like altering the color or shape. While her stamina wasn’t yet what it used to be, she was pleased to note she was stronger than she’d been in years.</p><p>Sirius cleared his throat and chuckled awkwardly. “Sooo, earlier today I found one of the library’s ancient texts in the history section….”</p><p>It was hard for the tension to remain as he yapped on about forgotten legends and records saved from the earth. Harder still when they dug into their meal—though it was simple, consisting of plain rice balls and sliced fruit, it was nonetheless satisfying.</p>
<hr/><p>Xelha was the third to awaken, as had become routine the past few days. First was Guillo, who would rise with the sun to run inventory, perform equipment maintenance, and start on breakfast. Whether they had his unnuanced yet invigorating meals or something a little more involved would depend on how long it took Larikush to stir. </p><p>Melodia was usually next. She was a still sleeper, almost corpse-like. Then, out of nowhere, her eyes would snap open and she’d go about her morning without a hint of grogginess. As for Kalas, he was astonishingly hard to waken for someone of his temperament. He consistently rose late and became coherent even later, sometimes having to combine the first two meals of the day. Worst of all, attempting to cater to this schedule only resulted in delaying when he got up.</p><p>It was a Larikush breakfast that day: thin yeast pancakes, hearty gruel, and a honey syrup that tasted faintly of oranges. Guillo’s contribution was a nutty cheese and a loaf of rye. She happily accepted a small portion of each.</p><p>“Where’s Melodia?” she asked, noticing the unusual absence.</p><p>“The history section,” Guillo replied, placing a chunk of cheese, slice of bread, and two pancakes on a handkerchief and tying it closed, “Would you mind bringing this to her? I think she might have lost track of time.”</p><p>“Of course. That’s very kind of you.” She placed them beside her and continued eating.</p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p>“Have more faith in yourself, boy,” chided Larikush. He shot a look at Xelha.</p><p><em> Divide and conquer </em>, it said.</p><p><em> At least until we develop better rapport </em>, she agreed.</p><p>They made idle conversation as she finished. Then, stepping around both the few villagers still sleeping and the winding bookshelves, she followed Guillo’s parroted directions. She made a short walk yet shorter by gliding down the head of the stair to the first entryway past the exit.</p><p>Sure enough, the placard read <em> History Section </em>.</p><p>The inside was barely better than the hub she’d just left. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with messy shelves, so much so that a few were outright weeping their wares onto the dust-matted floor, <span> f"&gt;books rent down their spines, their guts spilling out</span> to document familiar footwork. The wood, as astoundingly hard as it was, had been sliced and, at one point, drilled through, wisps of dark energy still petering off the scars.</p><p>She froze, then knelt against her will.</p><p>She could sense no presence, and yet the feeling of being watched pricked her nape.</p><p>The dirty prints were confusing to her inexperienced eyes, but even she could see a defensive stance here, a desperate lunge there. What was odd was that there was no sign of any enemy. As much as she searched the main area, nooks, and surrounding shelves, she could find no additional evidence of the attack. Just broken bottles, <span>missorted journals</span>, and dead insects.</p><p>
  <em> Mother, what happened here? </em>
</p><p><b>Regroup with your… </b> <b> <em>companions</em> </b> <b>. It is better to seek answers with a shield at your back.</b></p>
<hr/><p>As soon as she could will her legs to move, Xelha had roused everyone available to start the manhunt. A thorough search yielded little but the discontented mutterings of the villagers—or so it seemed until they met back up late in the evening.</p><p>“I’m <em> sure </em> the timing is just a coincidence,” said Sirius. His tone didn’t sound sure at all, at least in regards to their story.</p><p>Larikush scoffed, “Why would we stage an attack on one of our own and then trap ourselves here?”</p><p>He groaned and hung his head. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be pointing fingers.” He fell into a moody silence.</p><p>“Is this about the unsent you mentioned?” Guillo asked Hehena, whose hands were becoming raw from all the wringing.</p><p>At his frantic nods, Xelha reiterated, this time more firmly, “There are no unsent in this place.”</p><p>“I believe you, Lady Xelha, really I do,” exclaimed Odette, “But it’s still pretty spooky, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It would explain the lack of physical evidence….” A subtle shake ran through Guillo as he spoke.</p><p>“If Milady says it’s so, it’s so.”</p><p>Her words had the paranoid secretary’s eyes darting back and forth between the Wazni. “’Wisewoman’ indeed…,” he muttered. Then, louder, he sighed, “But it’s a well-known story. Even if you’re right, we can’t just decide to stop believing in the vengeful spirits of the library on a stranger’s say-so.”</p><p>“’Spirits’?” she echoed.</p><p>“There’s more than one?” Larikush leaned forward and fixed him with a stare.</p><p><em> Elaborate </em>, it said.</p><p><em> If you’ve any sense </em>, his tight jaw added.</p><p>“Alright, alright, quit hustling the oldtimer.” Rejoining the conversation, Sirius offhandedly accepted Hehena’s gratitude at being tapped out. “Dare you to learn about the souls that lurk in the Ancient Library of Magic?”</p><p>The flame flickered a mite too dramatically to be natural.</p><p>He withered under the phenomenal lack of interest in his theatrics that even Guillo was exuding. Clearing his throat, he began the telling proper.</p><p>“Fifteen Calms ago, the Head Librarian worked in <em> this very spot </em>—“ he pointed to a conspicuous door behind Odette, who squeaked and moved, “—and met the love of his life.”</p><p>She could almost hear Kalas rolling his eyes and saying, <em> Geezer was already married wasn’t he? </em></p><p>“But he was already married!”</p><p>From no particular source, a cold jangle rang out, sounding for all the world like a chain. She shivered despite herself.</p><p>Sirius, too, seemed unnerved. He gave up on mood lighting and signaled Odette brighten her fire.</p><p>“They recorded their affair in a journal, which he hid under the cover of a boring treatise on magical theory. However, his brother-in-law—“</p><p>A massive clap of thunder overpowered the next word, breaking Odette’s focus. Too nervous to keep her concentration, she passed the torch to Xelha. Unfortunately, their tumultuous arrival, poor sleep, and the day’s rigorous search efforts left her too drained to manage more than candlelight.</p><p>Rheong slid forward and offered some stumpy candles. Then, readjusting their cloak, glared at Sirius and whispered, “Continue.”</p><p>He gulped and obeyed. “Th-the brother-in-law, yes! He read the book and challenged the head librarian to a duel in the name of his sister’s honor, not realizing the magic he would face!”</p><p>The candles flickered out. As she fought to get a new flame to take, Sirius buried his face in his hands and let out a prolonged groan.</p><p>Hehena took up the reins. “There was a fire. Large sections were lost entirely. And most of the remaining structure is inaccessible to this day.”</p><p>“I see…,” murmured Larikush, “Tell me, where might I be most likely to find stable passage?”</p><p>“You can’t be serious,” moaned the original storyteller, “You’ll bring the curse down on us all!”</p><p>“Curse? You mentioned no curse.”</p><p>“The dead seek to steal the life of the living to gain final vengeance!”</p><p>“Okay, hold up,” said Wacho, pushing his way into the light, “That doesn’t make any sense. Unsent don’t last that long and fiends don’t target other fiends. Right, Tik?”</p><p>“Right! So instead of freaking out about it, let’s get some sleep.”</p><p>“B-but—!”</p><p>“Enough.” Rheong began dousing the light’s one by one. “Any story will sound frightening on a night such as this.” They paused at the final candle and stared down their audience en masse ‘til all were scrambling into their bedrolls.</p><p>The wick hissed into darkness.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> CLANG. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> CLANG. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> CLANG. </em>
</p><p>Xelha stirred.</p><p>“AaaaAA<em>AAHHH! </em>”</p><p>She stared in rapt horror at the door to the head librarian’s office. A terrible ruckus was coming from inside, as if of a blood-frenzied beast. Her hand had just reached for the knob when she heard a breath from behind. Whipping around, she caught sight of a pair of dark, glittering eyes.</p><p>“It’s locked,” said Rheong, their stillness exaggerated next to the awful howls, “Or else the handle is too hot to grip.”</p><p>Beside them, she belatedly noticed all the other summoners awake and grim-faced.</p><p>She lifted a hand to forestall further argument about the nature of their current predicament. With the other, she called her wand and flowed into the half-forgotten motions of a Sending. When she came to a rest, there was silence.</p><p>Then a voice came hissing from the other side, too garbled to make out much more than slurs against the head librarian’s paramore.</p><p>Xelha narrowed her eyes and reached out to open the door, only to draw back with a cry of pain. It woke Larikush, and just as well: a layer of skin had fused with the metal, leaving her hand to slowly ooze blood.</p><p>“What I don’t understand,” he mused after the situation had been explained, “is why you would come to this place if it holds such terror for you?” He inspected her hand from every angle and, frowning, applied another layer of white magic.</p><p>The pilgrims, as one, waited for Sirius to give his answer.</p><p>“I… look, it’s not something for outsiders—“</p><p>Wacho flicked his arm, apparently with significant power behind it.</p><p>“—okay, okay! We only came here for one of our trainee Keepers!”</p><p>“’Keeper’? Like, <em> Celestial Tree </em> ‘Keeper’?” Tik gasped, looking around as if he expected the tree itself to break through the floorboards.</p><p>Somber in visage, Sirius nodded and laced his fingers together. “Mayfee came here looking for a cure for her grandmother. We finally found her two days ago but… the curse had already….”</p><p>At their urging, he rose and lead them to a chamber off of the hub, which identified itself as the <em> Philosophy Section. </em> Once inside, Mayfee, who couldn’t have more than a decade to her name, lay on the floor under the care of a single villager. Two more appeared to have passed out from exhaustion in the corner.</p><p>The child lay in an enervated state, stirring only to let out distressed whimpers.</p><p>“Mayfee, it’s me, Sirius,” he whispered as he knelt at her makeshift bedside.</p><p>“Ssss… rss….” Her eyelids twitched before settling into a tense stillness, as if she’d tried to open them but found the task too arduous.</p><p>Gripping her hand, he turned back to them with tears in his eyes. “She keeps getting weaker and weaker, and she can only stomach the thinnest of broths, practically water!”</p><p>As he spoke, Larikush moved forward, nodding the attendant to retire. Thumbing through the scattered notes of her condition’s progress, his eyes squinted nearly shut.</p><p>“Have you seen it before?” asked Xelha, drawing one of his potions.</p><p>He nodded his thanks and began coaxing the fluid down her throat. “This data is too vague, too limited by its writers’ lack of expertise.” To Sirius he said, “I’d like to study her case overnight, if it’s no trouble. There was a time when I held great renown as a physician.”</p><p>It was desperation more than hope that shone in Sirius’ eyes as he accepted the offer. The two waved the rest of them on to get whatever sleep they could.</p><p>Odette, leading the way back, froze.</p><p>“What now?” whined Tik. He was the only one who appeared ready to sleep.</p><p>“Oh, it’s nothing,” she laughed nervously, “I just—wasn’t that bookcase more to the right?”</p><p>The longer they stared, the more it felt like she was correct.</p><p>He frowned. “That’s weird.” He made to lean against it but leapt back, exclaiming, “It’s hot!”</p><p>Rheong ran a cloth-protected hand across the wood. “The same as the door,” they confirmed. By silent, unanimous consensus, they traced the brief trail of heat to its end on the floor. “Strange.”</p><p>“It just stops?”</p><p>“Already it cools.”</p><p>Acting on a hunch, Xelha bent over the warmest spot and breathed deeply. “It’s that smell again—from where Melodia was attacked.”</p><p>A soft touch at her elbow.</p><p>“Lady Xelha,” murmured Odette, “I don’t want to—to presume, but… you need your rest. Let’s leave it for now. Please.”</p><p>Xelha inhaled again, trying to separate the scent from the odors it mingled with. When it became clear she was too fog-headed to get an accurate read, she gave a single nod and let herself be led to her bedroll.</p>
<hr/><p>When next Xelha was conscious, she caught the tail end of an emergency meeting. Objects continued to move when no one was looking, villagers were having trouble waking—it took an unpleasant degree of groggy, post-power-nap reassurances that she’d just had a busy week—, and shrieking could be heard from empty rooms.</p><p>So laden with tensions was the air that Xelha excused herself to check on Larikush. She sat with him for a time to let him sleep, though it was barely an hour before he was shooing her out to continue interrogating the amateur doctors between stabilizing patients.</p><p>
  <em> THUMP. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> THUMP. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> THUMP. </em>
</p><p>The banging had started up again, each blow making her wince with how loud it was. The others barely twitched, seemingly used to it.</p><p>The thought of anyone becoming so accustomed to terror galvanized her resolve and sent her strolling briskly over. Ignoring their alarm, she grasped the handle一cool, fully cooled一and pulled, that she might gain some idea of how difficult it would be to break down. Exceedingly simple, it turned out, as doing so drew her attention to the lock. Or rather, the stubby key inside of it.</p><p>It was locked from the outside.</p><p>“I’m opening the door!” she called to the party inside.</p><p>The blows stopped, which she took as a sign to proceed in spite of the unhappy cries from her own side.</p><p>The key turned with a surprising ease for an abandoned building, an ease echoed by the door itself—though ‘echoed’ was the last thing it did, for the hinges made nary a sound as they swung to reveal none other than Guillo.</p><p>“Miss Xelha!” he all but sobbed, “Thank goodness!”</p><p>“What happened? How did you…?”</p><p>Wasting no time in propping the door with a mangled journal from the floor, he beckoned her in and replied, “I picked the lock in hopes of confronting who- or whatever was behind that awful noise. As soon as I came in, I heard a strange laugh. Then, before I could react, I was trapped.”</p><p>“You scared the villagers—they thought you were a spirit!”</p><p>“I myself was frightened.”</p><p>Actually looking at the scene he was trapped in made it clear why, for it appeared to be that of an exceptionally messy murder. A chair marred by scratch marks sat amidst the bloodied canvas that was the stone beneath, all arcs and splatters and tacky pools. </p><p>“Miss Xelha.”</p><p>His soft voice startled her from her preoccupation with the horror she’d slept mere feet from.</p><p>“Guillo,” she replied. Just his name, but it was enough. Joining hands, she let him lead her to the other side of the room, where a large, curved desk took up most of the wall. </p><p>Atop it was a thick journal with <em> Accounting Records: 0-S00L </em> scrawled down its dusty spine. Upon closer inspection, she could see fingerprints where Guillo had no doubt flipped through it. Following his cue, she picked it up—or rather, slid it into her arms, once it became clear that it would require both to carry—and brought it back to the hub room. There, she settled down to read, hardly noticing Guillo excusing himself to calm his nerves.</p><p>Fortunately, the text was recent enough to be in modern Yevonese, if a little dated in spelling and character formation.</p><p>
  <em> Day 0: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m the head librarian at the Library of Magic. I’m strict and I’m sensible, but I’m still a man. </em>
</p><p>She tightened her grip and read on.</p>
<hr/><p>It must have been hours later that she reached the end of the sordid affair, which barely lasted a quarter of the journal before ending abruptly. She hadn’t learned much that Sirius hadn’t already shared, but to trace the handwritten evidence made it all the more visceral.</p><p>Xelha quietly closed the book. She needed to clear her head.</p><p>As she wandered the library, she couldn’t help but feel eyes following her every move. Try though she might to pay no mind to the creaking walls, the image of the bloodied room wouldn’t leave.</p><p>
  <em> Could there really be spirits here? </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Ponder not such foolishness.</b>
</p><p>She must have sighed aloud, for from behind came Larikush’s voice. “Quite the situation we’ve wandered into.”</p><p>When he had fallen into step beside her, she replied, “There are no Unsent here. I <em> know </em> it.”</p><p>Rather than question her, he nodded. “The power of the mind to fool itself cannot be overestimated.”</p><p>“You think it’s the villagers creating their own curse?” If true, it meant that the room would have to have been staged. The blood was fresh—it couldn’t be more than a few days old.</p><p>“Something like that. I believe I’ve isolated the cause of their symptoms, at least.” He cleared his throat as they returned to the hub. It seemed that he had spread news of his breakthrough as, with the exception of Mayfee and the others too sick to stir, everyone was present. “This will be difficult to hear.”</p><p>“Just hurry up and give us the answer!” stuttered Hehena. He looked pale enough that he likely should not have tried to attend.</p><p>Larikush fell silent. Then, in a slow, grave tone, as if each word was a bridge to cross, he explained, “Humanity is a creature that relies on the constant feedback of its kindred. The close contact that is necessary for our health and growth is also often responsible for the transmission of less desirable items.”</p><p>Before the crowd could become restless, he gestured that they wait, continuing:</p><p>“Not only from body to body, but from mind to mind.”</p><p>“What are you saying…?” asked Sirius, lips thinning.</p><p>“We all take part in a constant feedback loop of thought and emotion. When this loop becomes stuck on a particular thought, however, it can lead to the paralysis of rationality. This, in turn, leads to the condition that I am confident afflicts most of those present: mass hysteria.”</p><p>Fighting to be heard over the offended crowd, Xelha cried, “So because they were expecting a curse, it…?”</p><p>“Triggered their bodies to react as if cursed? Essentially, yes, though had Mayfee not taken ill, I doubt much would have come of it.”</p><p>The villagers quieted down somewhat to process the diagnosis, although one would be forgiven to think their mutters plotted mutiny; more than one dubious gaze raked over the foreigner.</p><p>Meanwhile, Guillo nodded slowly. “I’ve heard similar explanations for riots.”</p><p>“They’re related phenomena. In both cases, it’s important to try to keep a level head. Breaking a single link will alter the course of the reaction.”</p><p>A woman with fretting hands and a tight bun proved to be the pebble to start an avalanche of questions. “What of Keeper Mayfee?” </p><p>“She was sick before all this! What gives?!”</p><p>“A friend of mine got cursed coming here! Now she breaks out in hives whenever she smells mango blossoms!”</p><p>“If there’s no curse, how did we get trapped?”</p><p>Sirius quieted them with a rudely-worded shout.</p><p>“The girl was likely part of the trigger,” the doctor explained, “Her sickness acted as confirmation of the curse. As for the cause of that sickness… I’ve an inkling, but I’d rather not share until I can get my hands on a proper medical text. The symptoms are too generic to say anything for certain.”</p><p>“Generic?! A little girl is wasting away and you call that <em> generic?! </em> ” Sirius didn’t allow a response, stalking to a corner to pace and brood. Any expression of concern was not <em> waved </em> off so much as <em> slapped </em>.</p><p>Without their assertive summoner to guide them, the villagers practically deflated, many of them slipping back into the fatigued state their minds had created. Larikush sighed, shook his head, and strode off, muttering about a medical section as he went. Xelha internally wished him luck and sat with Guillo and Odette. Rheong stayed near but kept their distance from the man who bore machina.</p><p>“What do you think about what the doctor said?'' Guillo asked, thumbing through a collection of tea magnus. </p><p>While Xelha was considering her response, Odette piped up, “Well, he’d know better than any of us, right?”</p><p>And that was that.</p>
<hr/><p>The next crisis struck before the leaves could fully steep. Larikush stepped back to the room with the careful nonchalance of a messenger with news of disaster. He made a beeline for Sirius, who began cursing shortly into the hushed conversation.</p><p>“I entrusted her to you!” he screamed before shoving past him. A bark rallied up the villagers.</p><p>Mayfee was missing.</p>
<hr/><p>The search was a disorganized one, any advice about keeping calm forgotten in the panicked frenzy. A number had to be forcibly sedated and even more succumbed to the symptoms of the hysteria, forcing those who remained standing to either run around like a headless chicken or help Larikush move his newest patients into the Philosophy section.</p><p>Some sank into a dead faint. Others were given a sleeping draught. Sirius had gotten so riled up that he hyperventilated until he passed out, Larikush hoisting him over a shoulder and speeding him to the infirmary.</p><p>In the end, Xelha volunteered to relocate the affected parties on her own that more could devote themselves to the search. For as long as she had an audience, she used wind to lift them. As soon as the footsteps completely died down, however, she set down her load as gently as she could manage with the unruly element. </p><p>“The water here… it feels… tainted somehow…,” she murmured to herself. </p><p>Nevertheless, she called on it with her wand, much like she had in Nashira, drawing it from the air, books, and any magnus that could spare it. It was some time before she’d gathered as much as she would need.</p><p>Sweat gathered in the creases of her furrowed brow from the effort. The final yield hung around her, enough for her to flood a mid-sized room.</p><p>Step 1 complete.</p><p>Her breath and body shuddered.</p><p>And then they appeared: hundreds upon hundreds of pyreflies, enough to coat the surface. She directed the water to spread out across the floor and grasp the prone villagers, the pyreflies giving it a degree of substance that allowed them to be supported by the thin sheet. It had the added benefit of keeping the afflicted dry.</p><p>When she had them all well under hand, she began walking backwards, pulling the parcels one by one ‘til she had them queued up in front of her. Each step she made had to be executed carefully lest her concentration break. But still the process went smoothly, and soon the Philosophy Section was packed.</p><p>Xelha stopped to breathe. Launched into the next task.</p><p>The first place she approached was the head librarian’s office, which, to her dismay, was once again locked and missing its key. No one responded to her calls or knocks, and peering underneath showed no evidence of occupation, so she decided to move on for the time being.</p><p><em> It probably makes sense to find the others, so I know which rooms have been searched already, </em> she thought, winding her way through the jungle of shelves, <em> Though maybe it wouldn’t hurt to dou… ble… check…. </em></p><p>Her thoughts stuttered to a halt.</p><p>Without realizing it, she was flying down the stairs to the foyer to get a closer look at the bundle of white fabric by the door.</p><p>Larikush. </p><p>His hair was stained red.</p><p>She would have run directly to his side if not for the odd sight of Guillo, arms soaked in blood up to the elbow, with his hands over the doctor’s mouth and nose.</p><p>For the first time since they’d met, she felt herself shiver before the unreadable automaton.</p><p>“Guillo…,” she started, voice shaky, but a gaggle of villagers chose that moment to round the corner.</p>
<hr/><p>And so the doctor joined his patients, the godcraft was bound to a chair, and the queen forced to flex her judicial prowess. If not for Guillo himself, then for the memory of what he once was. What she was determined to believe he still was.</p><p>“You’re young, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” said Sirius, patronizing and dismissive. Or perhaps his tone was simply the pain of the injuries he’d shown up to the trial with, which were still being tended to.</p><p>He’d woken in the rubble of an unfamiliar part of the library, or so he explained when he arrived on the heels of the first group of villagers.</p><p>“Guillo bartered his own life just to give me a chance to run! How can it be naive to trust that over something I wasn’t there to see?!” Xelha snapped back. </p><p><em> For a complete stranger? Clearly he has an ulterior motive, </em> taunted her lifetime of instruction in courtly wiles, <em> Maybe he’s trying to get close to you. </em></p><p>“How many times does he have to appear at a crime scene before you’ll open your eyes?” He glared meaningfully at the head librarian’s office, clearly having taken a peek before it was relocked.</p><p>Her head-Kalas drawled, <em> He’s got a point, you know. </em></p><p><em> Be quiet, </em> she chided her paranoia, <em> He’s a godcraft. Even Shiva trusts him! </em></p><p>“At least once when there isn’t another explanation!” She took a breath; recent events were beginning to disrupt her self-presentation. “The door was locked from the outside. And anyone could’ve come across Larikush. Everyone <em> had </em> to—he was in the only hall leading back here.”</p><p>Xelha herself was a reasonable culprit, given her own little errands.</p><p>“So? Not everyone keeps vanishing for hours with no explanation. If he’s so trustworthy, why not stick around or show his face? And what’s with the machina?”</p><p>
  <b>You have chosen your truth. Now defend it properly, as a queen!</b>
</p><p>“You’re still only listing circumstantial evidence.”</p><p>He frowned but had no rebuttal.</p><p>Unlike Wacho, who leaned into Guillo’s space and asked conversationally, “So, did you get sexiled or something? Where’s Sagi and Milly?”</p><p>The room as a whole went completely silent, though no one moreso than Guillo himself. He tensed to a degree that had her wincing in sympathy for the limbs that were bound.</p><p>“Yeah, Guillo, where are they?” It was Tik’s turn. His face had taken a cruel edge. “Come on, you can tell us. You <em> do </em> remember all those times together back on Hassaleh, right?”</p><p>Guillo looked away.</p><p>“That’s what I thought.”</p><p>“So he’s an imposter!” shouted Sirius, eagerly latching onto the new ‘evidence’.</p><p>Xelha glanced back at Guillo. His posture screamed guilt.</p><p>
  <em> There has to be some sort of explanation! </em>
</p><p>Seeing the words gathering on the Hassalites’ tongues, she was quick to interject, physically and verbally. “‘Guillo’ is an ancient name meaning ‘resolute protector’,” she said, setting herself more solidly between them and her companion, “It was a popular name once, especially among early Miran and Al Wezn Yevonites.”</p><p>“Is that how you would explain his machina?” It was Rheong, whom she hadn’t realized was even attending due to their lack of presence. “Wezn fell from the sky almost as soon as it arrived. If a lost tribe is your best defense….”</p><p>“I—I’m not saying that Guillo is Al Wezni—”</p><p>“Of course not,” they interrupted, rising and striding forward with an arm outstretched, “He couldn’t more clearly be Al Fhard.”</p><p>Xelha once again moved, blocking the hand from grasping his hood. “He hasn’t done anything to deserve this!”</p><p>“Are you lifelong companions then, to know what he has or has not done?”</p><p>
  <em> Less than a week. </em>
</p><p>Aloud she said, “Are you?”</p><p>Rheong stared at her in consideration, pulling their own hood closer to their head. “That remains to be seen.” Their eyes flicked to Guillo’s face. Even at their close range, it was impossible to see through his goggles.</p><p>“Please,” he said softly, “I—I understand why you would have reservations about me. But I would be in mortal danger from the Empire if my identity were to be revealed.”</p><p>They scoffed, “An easy claim to make. One that would facilitate your assimilation into a Summoner’s entourage.”</p><p>“For what purpose?” The words, which alone would sound like a deflection, were spoken with that same gentleness as before, the gentleness he’d shown in all his dealings. It sounded like a genuine question, a sincere appeal for mutual understanding.</p><p>One that Rheong was in no way impressed by, if their curling lip was any indication. “Spying. Abduction. Assassination.”</p><p>“It isn’t like that!” Xelha cut in, casting about for any kind of character witness that could sway them and their rapt audience, “When we met Guillo, he was trying to pass intelligence to King Ladekahn!”</p><p>As soon as the words left her lips, so did the enormity of what she’d said hit her. In the heat of the moment she’d forgotten every lesson Barnette had ever given her on the rhythm of politics, and Guillo would be the one to pay.</p><p>“And who would he be to have that information in the first place?”</p><p>Tik piped up, “The Guillo we knew was a paramachina who accompanied High Summoner Sagi.”</p><p>None could hold back their intake of breath at the casual reveal that the aforementioned Sagi and Milly were, in fact, Lord Sagi, Foremost Son of Hassaleh, and his beloved guardian Milliarde, Heiress of the Once-Emperor Baelheit. Tales of their pilgrimage had, in the mere twenty years since, gained the characteristics of much older folktales. She didn’t know of any starring a “Guillo”, but perhaps he was one of less storied companions, such as the Master of Shadows or the Masked Maneater or the Ding-bat.</p><p>It was a wild claim.</p><p>One that Guillo had no response to.</p><p>“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” admitted Xelha, chasing the eyes of all three of the pseudo-prosecutors.</p><p>“Believe me, we’d <em> love </em> to know that too,” Wacho grumbled. He eyed the two summoners.</p><p>Tik deflated somewhat. “I just thought it was strange.”</p><p>“It is,” said Rheong, gazing ever more closely at Guillo, “If what you say is true, Lord Tik, it only confirms what I suspect: that our spy is privy to highly classified information, such as invasion plans and obscure details regarding the High Summoner’s retinue.”</p><p>“That’s just speculation!” Xelha yelled, but it got lost amongst the excitement.</p><p>Wacho ducked to the other side of Guillo’s chair. “All we need is to check the eyes, right?” To Guillo he said, “This can be easy or hard. You going to cooperate?”</p><p>He was not.</p><p>“Be careful,” Rheong warned him as he came in closer, “An Al Fhard operative with high clearance, a recognizable face, and no recent sightings… we may be dealing with Lady Death. There’s plenty of room in those head coverings for a voice modifier.”</p><p>Guillo sprang into action.</p><p>Literally.</p><p>Legs lifted and pistoned against the seat of the chair, he backflipped onto the shoulders of the closest person behind him, ropes unmarred save for the kinks of former knots falling in his wake.</p><p>From there he flew a short distance, just enough to get clear of the burgeoning mob. He held his hands out in a placating gesture, pleading, "I... you all have no reason to trust me. I am aware of this, but nonetheless you must believe me when I say that I am no Al Fhard and most certainly not the Butcher of Nihal!"</p><p>"Prove yourself then!" snapped Rheong, approaching him with rapid, jerky movements, "I have seen her head—I have seen her body move!"</p><p>Guillo only backed away, keeping his hands up.</p><p>In their hurry to follow, their hood was displaced, revealing in full the long, fine, navy locks.</p><p>He immediately wheeled about and sprinted.</p><p>"No!" His pursuer burst into a run of their own, fingers clawing for their prey.</p><p>The single sharp command seemed to rouse the villagers from the spell of high drama, spurring them on to join in the hunt. Xelha, too, let herself be swept up in the excitement, but took steps—or, rather, flutters—to avoid the full brunt of the mob. She launched herself through the air to Guillo's side, readying for whatever magic she yet had the energy to orchestrate.</p><p>"M-Miss Xelha...," he whimpered, before slowing his steps in defeat.</p><p>"Don't stop."</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"I don't want anyone to get hurt," she clarified, tasting the latent energy of the library with a twirl of her wand, "Anything I do won't hold them off for long."</p><p>She was too focused on her analysis of the environment to catch his response. Decay was thick on her metaphysical tongue, like tea steeped overlong. In this particular case, close to 300 years too long. Under the darkness was a current of mildew. Dank. Clammy. Dampness beyond what even the nearby rain forests could account for. </p><p>The chill wind of a graveyard. Stiff and stained pages fluttered helplessly in its wake. The library whistled with it like breath forced from a corpse.</p><p>"He's getting away!"</p><p>"<em>NO! </em>"</p><p>Xelha slid more firmly into her role as a blockade. Her spell activated just in time to prevent her from being hurled aside by the stampede. All comers were thrown back by the surge of green energy.</p><p>"<em>What—know—doing </em>," gasped Rheong, nearly wordless in their disbelief.</p><p><em> What </em> am <em> I doing, </em> she echoed, bracing against the drain of spellwork in an element she lacked proficiency with. Excepting holy, the place was unsuited for her areas of expertise. Even still, she felt more tired than she should. <em> Maybe it's from calling the pyreflies earlier. </em></p><p>Still she drew on chronos, the safest and least costly element currently available to her, and spun it into orbs that hovered by her side. They attracted any attempts to strike or push past her and rolled them away.</p><p>"I knew it! You're all in league with each other, aren't you?!" screamed Sirius, blasting fire at her to break her concentration. He was joined in his efforts by Rheong, both in too much of a frenzy to do more than strike with abandon.</p><p>Dampening their magic with brute force, she yelled, "Calm down, everyone!"</p><p>However, the strain was too much and she was knocked to the floor.</p><p>"He's already gone, thanks to you!" Sirius snarled, pinning her to the floor with a foot on her stomach.</p><p>"Please, remember what Larikush said!" she replied, "You have to calm down! The longer the hysteria goes on, the more people will be hurt!" She would have continued but the air was stomped out of her.</p><p>Whatever he was planning to say was cut off by Odette stepping protectively over Xelha, leaning up, and slapping him in the face.</p><p>"Shame on you!" she cried with a voice raw from stung pride, "How <em> dare </em> you strike <em> Lady Xelha. </em> Shame on you!" She went in for another slap but was intercepted by Rheong's hand catching her wrist.</p><p>"Shame on <em> you </em>," they rasped, "for defen... defending a... a, um...."</p><p>Odette cursed loudly but the retort died on her tongue when their eyes met. "Rheong, you...."</p><p>They jerked back and pulled their hood up with such force that it ripped clean off. They froze, just for a moment. Then they began muttering under their breath, unintelligible save for the telltale hitch of tears.</p><p>"<em>What's going on?! </em>" Sirius shoved Odette out of the way and pulled Rheong closer by a grip just below their right shoulder, making a strangled noise at what he saw.</p><p>Their mumblings became slightly louder, slightly faster.</p><p>"<span>Druothu, ek druothu, E Yevon, lurafut su—A ztaul ze nerrek aey, aeyt zuovkasbth, A ztaul. A thkuot es zku dozk en zku thyssesut, es zku Neytzuus Sozaesth en Alfard, es zku Lafasu Vkarl kasthurn, soa ku sufut vroas kath katzktabkz....</span>"</p><p>They continued even as both themself and Xelha were escorted to the Geography Section, where they were caged in by what few bookcases were light enough for the villagers to push.</p><p>Xelha lay where she was left, distantly listening to the Al Zhani’s fervent begging, and yearned for sleep to pull her under.</p>
<hr/><p>Jostling.</p><p>Scraping.</p><p>Cursing.</p><p>Her feet caught against a raised stone in the floor.</p><p>Someone held her left shoulder tightly, too tightly. The pain kept her mute and boneless.</p><p>She was tired.</p><p>So very tired.</p><p>The air was thick and cloying and musty and heavy and cold and choking and wet.</p><p>Her feet caught against a raised stone in the floor.</p><p>She hurt.</p><p>She ached.</p><p>And then the pain eased.</p><p>A face.</p><p>She knew him.</p><p>"Papa...," she whispered, dazed by the golden glow emanating from his hand.</p><p>Larikush drew his hand back and had it join its fellow in cradling her limp body.</p><p>"See what you’ve done to this poor girl?” he scolded, “I was quite clear on what ought to be done to settle this little ‘plague’.”</p><p>From the crowd’s expressions, it seemed that it was merely a new vein of the overall lecture.</p><p>Sirius was the only one with the gumption to speak up. “But you just said—”</p><p>“<em>Regardless </em> ,” retorted Larikush, glaring until his mouth snapped shut, “Regardless of previously unknown <em> contributing factors </em> , this has, up until now, been primarily a case of mass hysteria. Machina gas <em> does not </em> take effect so quickly.”</p><p>“Machina… gas…?” asked Xelha, pushing her protesting body upright. After a brief attempt, she decided to save actually standing for later.</p><p>He nodded. “I apologize for taking so long to diagnose, but after so long… and in Anuenue of all places….” He reached down to his side and retrieved his pipe, drawing in a deep breath and letting out a ring of smoke.</p><p>“We’ve decided to hold a community discussion,” muttered Sirius.</p><p>Larikush cocked an eyebrow straight into his hairline. “Not without having the entire community present, you aren’t.” Though stated mildly, she got the distinct impression that he was itching to smack the other man over the head with his staff.</p><p>“<em>Rheong—is—Al—Fhard </em>,” Sirius gritted out, each word almost its own sentence.</p><p>“<em>Summoner </em> Rheong is an Al Zhani and a Yevonite, two things the Empire disdains,” he argued back, “You will give them their due respect.” It wasn’t a threat. It was an order spoken with the utmost confidence that it would be followed.</p><p>Half an hour later, Xelha, Odette, and Larikush sat stonefaced against the sheepish and frightened crowd. Odette had greeted both former detainees eagerly, flapping her hands cheerfully at their concern for the bruise that passed for the left side of her face—at least she had until she realized that the Al Zhani in question was Larikush.</p><p>Rheong was missing, and the only evidence of how was a floorboard near where they’d been bound, its surface charred completely black with one exception: a footprint in the shape of a high-heeled shoe.</p><p>“We’re not soldiers!” Sirius finally cried when the judgmental silence became too much, “We don’t have ‘troops’ to spare to babysit someone who, for all we know, is an enemy!”</p><p>“They’ve done nothing but support you and me and everyone here!” Odette screamed back, barely contained from further outbursts by a tap of her queen’s hand on her arm.</p><p>“You really expect me to take that seriously when you act like that?!” He waved in Xelha’s direction, seemingly launched to greater heights of fury at her lack of reaction.</p><p>“Look,” Tik said hastily. Though discomfited by the attention given him for breaking the tension, he plowed on, “Xelha and the rest? Without them we’d be dead.” A ‘but’ lingered in the desperate glance he shot at Wacho.</p><p>Sure enough, Wacho continued, “But that aeon, that magic—why’s a summoner guarding another summoner anyway?—<em> and </em> you were travelling with that faker <em> and </em> this all started when that scary chick disappeared…. You just happen to have Dr. Perfect over there….”</p><p>Tik picked the reins back up. “Odette’s got that weird thing for Xelha and Rheong….”</p><p>“Fake-o eats with a blanket wrapped around his head—seriously, what’s up with that?”</p><p>“And once you guys showed up, the Al Fhard went nuts….”</p><p>“What we’re trying to say is that you guys are kind of a bunch of suspicious weirdos. Right, Tik?”</p><p>“Yeah….”</p><p>A glance left at Larikush.</p><p><em> They’re not wrong </em>, read his jawline, defeated.</p><p>A glance right at Odette.</p><p><em> Should we tell them? </em> quivered her eyes.</p><p>In the end, all three sighed in unison.</p><p>“See?! See that?!” Sirius yelled so loud as to shake dust from the ceiling, “What’s <em> not </em> suspicious about you people?!”</p><p>“You’re just pointing fingers!” This time Odette shrugged off Xelha’s reminder, rising to her feet along with Sirius and some of the more aggressive villagers.</p><p>“You’ve either been brainwashed by this… this… <em> witch </em>, or you’ve been in league the whole time!”</p><p>“In league <em> how?! </em>”</p><p>Tik, Wacho, and Xelha, on the terms of a silent, temporary truce, grabbed their respective instigators and attempted to calm them down.</p><p>“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” laughed Tik nervously.</p><p>“You’re taking this so ‘Sirius’-ly,” added Wacho, wincing at his own joke.</p><p>“Odette, that’s enough,” Xelha commanded, dusting off her court voice.</p><p>If anything, it seemed to spur the two on, Sirius snarling, “You lapdog, you <em> thrall </em> , I bet <em> you’re </em> the unsent haunting this place! No, you must be some kind of mutant Al Fhard!”</p><p>To which Odette smirked and replied, “And <em> I </em>bet you’re just trying to shift suspicions from yourself!”</p><p>He froze, sputtered, swore, and barreled stiffly past everyone who got between him and the exit to the hub. His rage could be heard echoing back along with each stomping step he took down the stairs.</p><p>Wacho cleared his throat. “We’ll just, ah….”</p><p>Tik was already following and his guardian jogged to catch up.</p><p>Odette calmed down just enough to realize what had happened. “Oh… oh no… should we…?”</p><p>“No,” said Larikush decisively, “It’s bad enough that so many have split off already. Sending more after them will only leave that many more of us vulnerable.” He hunched away, motioning the others after him. “No, for now we should relocate the affected—”</p><p>Almost as soon as he left, Tik was back in a whirl of lovebird feathers, screaming, “<em> Scary lady! </em>”</p><p>“The library really is haunted?!” a villager screamed back.</p><p>The messenger tried to say more but was drowned out by the ensuing panic.</p><p>“Quiet!” yelled Xelha. She swung her arm as if to cleave the noise in two and, to her surprise, it worked. Then she turned back and gestured for more information.</p><p>“S-sorry, I don’t really remember her name?”</p><p>She was reminded of the bungled debate mere minutes ago. “You mean Melodia.”</p><p>“Yeah, her! Wacho’s with her now, but she’s in a bad way, you know? They’re not far, come on!”</p><p>As one, all but Tik turned to look askance at their exasperated sort-of leader. Tik himself glanced around at the odd behavior, face crumpling in confusion.</p><p>Larikush, furiously stuffing leaves into his pipe, sighed aggressively and waved them on. “I want all non-combatants—”</p><p>All but Odette, Xelha, and Tik reared back and clumped together.</p><p>He sighed again and continued, “Stay here and help move the afflicted into the hub, as, if Mayfee is any proof, the rooms they’re in now are doing them no favors. Then I want to know the schematics of this library—<em> and no </em>, that does not exclude the areas that have collapsed; the entire point of this endeavor is to find the most promising location to maximise airflow.</p><p>“For now, our only viable treatment for machina gas poisoning is ventilation. Fortunately, it leaves the body rapidly and without lasting harm when removed from the source, which I can assure you is not common amongst the deadly gases.</p><p>“Do <em> not </em> attempt to move a body on your own; the risk of head injuries to all involved parties, should you suddenly succumb, are not worth whatever ground you think you can clear. You will all rest between successful transfers. If you begin feeling any form of dizziness, faintness, nausea, vertigo, or fatigue, you are to inform those around you and tap out. Come straight to the hub and get examined.”</p><p>He paused just long enough to place Xelha in charge of the rescue party, then was back to business.</p><p>“Um, sir?” stuttered Tik, not sounding sure he ought to speak up at all, “What about Sirius?”</p><p>Head cocked over shoulder, he barked, “If he shows his face, tell him off for being a damn fool and make sure he doesn’t leave again!”</p><p>Xelha deemed it a good time to get going.</p><p>“He’s been having a bad day,” she assured her companions, though they didn’t seem particularly comforted.</p><p>Tik led the way, explaining how they’d seen Melodia through a gap in the mess near the hub’s exit, looking paler than death. Upon reaching the location and finding it barren, Tik frowned and called, voice wavering slightly, for his guardian.</p><p>“I’m trying the other door!” came his response. From beyond the bookshelf to their left rose a cacophony of banging, grunting, and, eventually, the heavy thumping of an axe and splintering wood. </p><p>When the area was once again silent, Tik jokingly imitated a yowling cat.</p><p>“Ha, ha, you fucking riot,” grumbled Wacho, less muffled now that he was in the same room again, “Stand clear, I think I can knock down that shelf. Looks a little wobbly. Guess they ran out of money or something—the wood’s a lower quality.”</p><p>Tik paled enough for it to be noticeable even in the sparse light. All three moved just in time to avoid impalement by the debris and the wing-powered punch that produced it. For the tight space and dainty feathers—caplin wings no larger than those found on the beast itself—it was backed with impressive force.</p><p>Wacho grinned and posed, flexing.</p><p>Of more interest was the form on the floor: unmistakable as Melodia, though in so poor a state it was almost impossible for Xelha to believe her the same deadly warrior she’d fought alongside.</p><p>Her clothes and skin had been scourged, in some places even partially flayed. Blood sapped from the wounds sluggishly, mostly scabbed, but the damage had been done; Xelha could tell by the markings that it had been she who was tortured in the locked room. Melodia’s blood, Melodia’s screams.</p><p><em> And Guillo right in the middle of it, </em> she thought, kneeling for a better look. Reaching out, she lost her nerve at the last moment. No heat was emanating from that skin. If not for the tremors accompanying each shallow breath, she might have thought her dead. <em> Could he actually…? </em></p><p>Less than a week. Could she even justify defending him?</p><p><em> No, it’s when you’re in the most doubt that you have to trust your fellows. Still, Melodia did think he’s the one who hurt me back on Diadem…. </em> She shivered. The reversal of their circumstances was uncanny. <em> If a godcraft can have heartwings, lose their memory, who’s to say they can’t reject their purpose? Mother? </em></p><p>Shiva stayed quiet.</p><p>As did their surroundings.</p><p>It took a moment for her to put a finger on why that would bother her, but when she did, she froze, unfocusing her eyes to better strain sound from the sudden stillness. “Everyone… wasn’t Larikush still talking not too long ago?”</p><p>“...Fuck, what <em> now? </em>”</p><p>“It’s fine, he probably got tired! Or something….”</p><p>“Do you think? Lady Xelha?”</p><p>The thought of another disaster so soon after the last made every limb seem to double in weight.</p><p>She was tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Minimal rest and the constant bickering had whittled down her strength—that, or her machina gas symptoms were setting in much faster with the strained supply of fresh air. There was a part of her that was small and hidden in her mother’s skirts that wished to curl up in despair.</p><p>But she was a princess no longer.</p><p>“Wacho, Tik, I’d like you two to use some of the scrap wood to make a stretcher,” said the queen as she peered around a shelf. If there was anything to be seen, it was hidden in the dim maze between them and relative safety. “Odette, light the way. I don’t know if Melodia can take any jostling in her condition.”</p><p>“Your Majesty…?” murmured Odette.</p><p>Xelha was already in position, holy light beading along her wand. “I’m the vanguard.”</p><p>Once Melodia was settled on the stretcher, they crept out into the narrow walkways. The ceiling, at least, was high, which would be advantageous if their unknown tormentor truly was Al Fhard. If her wings were but stronger or the air less dead, Xelha could fulfill her role from a proper vantage point. As it was, she would have to rely on her reflexes to counter any traps laid.</p><p>Or so would have been the case, had the next turn not revealed the culprit: Guillo, his firearm aimed at an unconscious Larikush.</p><p>She was less than pleased to see him, although it was most likely a mutual sentiment, if not yet more unpleasant for him, knowing as he did what she was capable of.</p><p>“Miss Xelha, please, don’t get involved.”</p><p>“So<em> you </em>are involved?”</p><p>He continued his frustrating trend of incriminating silences.</p><p>And so she paced forward, him matching her step for step backwards, until she stood shielding Larikush.</p><p>Eyes met goggles met eyes.</p><p>He looked away first. “I truly am sorry.”</p><p>“I’ll finish you.” Her voice had sunk deep into her lower register, issued as barely more than a whisper. Louder, then, with an indignant, almost scolding rise of intonation, she cried, “I’ll finish you!” and spiralled upwards on wings she didn’t remember summoning.</p><p>Guillo, in his god-granted wisdom, bolted immediately.</p><p>During her ascension, her body acted as a spindle, drawing in holy energy to gather on her wingtips, the afterimage forming a double helix. When she reached the ceiling, it was quickly absorbed into her, refined, and exuded as a spherical matrix encompassing her entire form. She took advantage of the surplus of darkness to create a core around herself, which reacted with its opposing force, fragmenting the light and firing it after her runaway opponent.</p><p>“Wacho, Tik, Odette! Take care of the injured!” she ordered.</p><p><em> One way or another, I </em> will <em> get to the bottom of this. </em></p><p>“Your Majesty!” screamed Odette from behind.</p><p>Xelha was already throwing herself into midair rolls, kicking off walls, flicking her wand to clear what she could from her path. But in the end, she was forced to alight in the foyer, tired and without a trail to follow.</p><p>She narrowed her eyes. <em> If I can’t find Guillo… </em></p><p>Schooling her affect into pure exhaustion—admittedly, ‘act’ was an overstatement—she began with the Geography Section, peering into every nook and cranny while she listened for any out of place sound.</p><p>
  <em> Creak. </em>
</p><p>She stilled, the better to make sure it hadn’t been her imagination.</p><p>The gentle clop of a foot against stone.</p><p>
  <em> It’s working! </em>
</p><p>When even backing herself into a corner didn’t trigger an ambush, she shook her head and continued into History. </p><p>Once again she found nothing. </p><p>Once again she was found by nothing.</p><p>Before leaving, Xelha paid another visit to the spot where Melodia first vanished—was first captured. The strange scoring had long since cooled but the mess remained.</p><p><em> Not a page out of place since I last saw it </em> , she thought, running a finger through the most recent layer of dust, <em> It’s almost as if someone wanted us to see this. Machina gas… and the key to a torture chamber…. </em></p><p>The footsteps started up again in earnest, this time accompanied by the roar of fire.</p><p>“<em>Get away from me!” </em></p><p>Her breath caught.</p><p>“No,” she whispered, “I was wrong. The one following me was…!”</p><p>By the time she’d scrambled to the door, it was too late; her dear, loyal subject was gone, with only the lingering residue of magic and a scrap of singed burlap to show for her struggle.</p><p>“Odette!” she shrieked, hoping against hope that a whimper, a groan, anything would sound and she could undo her mistake.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>“Odette!”</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Then, an echo.</p><p>Xelha’s wings had never beat harder than her rush to follow the sound back up the way she came. By the time she arrived, she was ready to collapse into a motionless heap on the floor.</p><p>It was only when her wings refused her call she realized that she already had.</p><p>“No, no!” Wacho was wailing in the background. His body was blurred from her sinking lashes. “I already lost everyone! Everyone except him! Mom and Sagi and Guillo and Milly…! Sheraton!”</p><p>“Calm… yourself,” rasped Larikush.</p><p>She forced herself to crawl forward, letting her eyes sink closed to save her strength.</p><p>“How can I be calm?! My entire fucking world is gone! I—I don’t even have the <em> Yesterbean </em> anymore; it’s—it’s like the universe is trying to erase anything that reminds all you goddamn selfish main-islanders that we ever existed! <em> Fuck! </em>”</p><p>His reply was too quiet to hear.</p><p>“Shut up! I’m all that’s left—me and that <em> shithead </em> impersonating my family!”</p><p>
  <em> SLAP. </em>
</p><p>She winced at the sound. She was so tired of being trapped in a place where lashing out was the only answer. Of the fear and tension and pain and blood and constant, unanswerable questions.</p><p>“A bit touched, are we?”</p><p>When the healing spell settled, Xelha was lucid enough to recognize three facts: Tik was missing, the handprint on Wacho’s face was far too small to be from Larikush, and Melodia, though still battered, was restored enough to have taken the doctor’s place.</p><p>The woman in question followed her line of sight to Larikush, who appeared to have swooned into Wacho’s arms. ”He’ll be fine after some rest. I’m afraid our<em> delightful hosts </em> were a little too dedicated to keeping me entertained, and it took everything out of him to reverse.”</p><p>Xelha saw the selfsame edge of rage in Melodia’s eyes, and embraced her with the last of her borrowed strength. “Your hosts, who…?”</p><p>Braids brushed her ear as Melodia shook her head. “Unfortunately, I was blindfolded the entire time. But never you mind, pet, I’ll find them if I have to smell them out like a common bitch.”</p><p>“Smell?”</p><p>Against her cheek, she could feel Melodia’s face contort as she wrinkled her nose. “Like flowers…, no, hazelnuts. There were at least two of them and they were both drenched in perfume.”</p><p>As if to learn the scent from the spoken word, Xelha inhaled, only to realize something that had niggled at her since they arrived.</p><p>The smell. Nutty and floral with a hint of spice, like cinnamon or nutmeg.</p><p>Guillo wore such a perfume.</p><p>The <em> Goldoba </em>, too, as much as an airship could ‘wear perfume’.</p><p>And the same could be said of the library as a whole, under the initial, distracting scent of dilapidated lumber.</p><p>“It’s the gas,” she murmured, “We’ve all been breathing the machina gas… the <em> Goldoba </em> must run on it… and Guillo too….”</p><p>“I see,” Melodia said, stroking Xelha’s back in circles with a single nail, “I won’t trouble you for the details, although Al Fhard involvement would explain our shortage of summoners.”</p><p>Xelha merely gave sleepy mumbles in response to her friend’s musings, content to let the comforting touches sink her into drowsiness, then sleep.</p>
<hr/><p>Floating.</p><p>Awake? Asleep?</p><p>Sleep.</p><p>The dark, cold waters of the abyss.</p><p>Awake.</p><p>Tide tickling against toes on the shore.</p><p>Sleep.</p><p>Wakefulness.</p><p>The rasp of cloth pulled through a tight squeeze.</p><p>Perfume.</p><p>Asleep?</p><p>Awake.</p><p>Her eyes stuttered open. “G’llllllooo….”</p><p>“Miss Xelha!” he gasps.</p><p>She blinked and he was gone.</p><p>“Miss Xelha, release me… please.”</p><p>She was dumbfounded to find her hand clenched around his coattails.</p><p>“I… wanted to believe… our friendship was real….”</p><p>“It is, it is!”</p><p>Tears dripped. They were startlingly cold.</p><p>“You’re machina gas.” No, that was wrong. “You gas. You wear gas.” Better, but mush-mouthed.</p><p>“...Yes.”</p><p>“How could you hurt Melodia?”</p><p>“I… I can’t… tell you.”</p><p>The water sliding down her face awoke something inside her… something familiar. It made her mind clearer, if only slightly.</p><p>“Who are you?”</p><p>“Nothing good will come of me telling you. Everyone around me suffers… suffers because they know me.”</p><p>More tears fell, this time making the floor sticky against her cheek. She realized she was crying as well.</p><p>“That’s convenient,” scoffed a new voice.</p><p>A pulse of anxiety jolted Xelha free of her stasis. Guillo the probable traitor was one thing, but a last-minute player? One she couldn’t hope to face in her current state, should they be an enemy?</p><p>The temporary reprieve from the gas’ effects allowed Shiva to regain her faculties as well.</p><p>
  <b>Child! On your feet!</b>
</p><p>In a flash she was upright, potion choked down to minimal results and wand held unsteadily as a shield. To her right, Guillo stood, finger twitching as he took aim towards the newcomer.</p><p>The stranger pushed herself upright from her place against the wall, letting her gauntlet-clad right hand rest against her hip. Her <em> only </em> hand, Xelha realized, eyes widening, as her left arm appeared to be amputated at the elbow, from what little candlelight could do for visibility.</p><p>She had pale skin with a golden undertone, matched with green eyes and hair of dark plum. It was pulled up into a ponytail with the exception of bangs cut just above the eyes. An ornament was pinned to her hair tie on the same side as her missing forearm, a jeweled purple crocus blossom held in place by copper needles designed to look like saffron-laden stigmas. Delicate copper chains dangled from the eye of the flower, ending in multicolored, teardrop-shaped glass beads.</p><p>She wore leather lace-up boots, a v-cut leather breastplate and a curved leather shoulder pad on her left side, which was held in place by a three-pronged belt buckled in place over her heart. From what Xelha could see, one belt ran under the guard itself, another under the breast on the same side, and the last seemed to cut across the chest under the right armpit. The buckle itself was a gold disk.</p><p>Whatever else she might have been wearing was covered up by a red, ankle-length yukata. The hems were lined with a two inch border of thin vertical stripes in green, blue, black, and goldenrod. Just above them on her right side was a pattern of purple plum blossoms, which gradually became loose petals the further up and left they went. The left sleeve, completely bare of flowers, was slipped below the shoulder and knotted beneath the amputated limb. The obi was a dark, desaturated olive.</p><p>“Lady Death,” Guillo hissed.</p><p>‘Lady Death’ didn’t make any threatening movements in response, nor did she do anything to appease his fright. If she was indeed the formidable operative described by Rheong, she showed no sign of it, content to linger several feet away. “What of it?”</p><p>“It is exactly as I said, Xelha!” he exclaimed, shifting his head but slightly in her direction, “This monster is the embodiment of why I left the Empire!”</p><p>“<span>Kobu zqu lwosozahk, kerlauw,</span>” she replied, even-toned and commanding, “<span>A’bu runz zqoz sosu juqasl, pykz ok aey’bu kzerus zqu sosu ‘Guillo’.</span>”</p><p>He flinched but remained steady. “<span>Orr zkoz aey kofu runz kukasl ath zku ysveyszokru luol en Azha.</span>”</p><p>Whatever he’d said gave her pause, as she stared him down in narrow-eyed silence. “Who are you?”</p><p>Guillo’s hand wavered under the weight of the machina. “‘Who’...?” He took a step back and, when Lady Death made no move to follow, darted into the head librarian’s office, the lock clicking behind him.</p><p>She turned her gaze upon Xelha. “There’s not much I can do for the villagers, but I have some energy capsules that should brace you for the time being.”</p><p>With the crook of a finger, the woman flicked a magnus out of her holster. Almost as soon as she’d done so, the medicine blinked into being in front of Xelha, forcing her to catch it.</p><p>Staring down the capsule in hand, she asked, “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Xelha, right?” At her gasp, she continued, “I found your summoner. He sent me to find you while he goes ahead to Komo Mai.”</p><p>“Kalas?! Thank goodness he’s alright!” And, apparently, concerned for their safety. She allowed herself a small, gentle smile.</p><p>‘Lady Death’ was still looking at her expectantly. “Are you going to take that?”</p><p>The capsule.</p><p>“Can I know your name first?”</p><p>“...Savyna.”</p><p>Satisfied, Xelha popped it into her mouth and swallowed, surprised to find it immediately kicked in. Savyna walked past her to give another to the fallen Melodia, whose eyes shot open in sudden wakefulness, and a third to Larikush.</p><p>When he came to, his eyes widened in alarm and he summoned his staff. He didn’t attack, merely held it in a white-knuckled grip in front of him. “...Commander. You seem well.”</p><p>“The boy became a summoner,” she said without preamble.</p><p>He nodded, oddly regretful. “Perhaps it was fate.”</p><p>“<span>Osl kqoz en zqu Ustuwew?</span>”</p><p>“<span>Az thuusth Georg sufut zerl kas. Osl the az norrth ze su. An ku vkeethuth ze veszasyu es zkath dozk onzut ku vsekth ufutazkasb… ku kteybkz kas asze zku ranu en o favzas. A kofu se tabkz ze zovu zkoz luvathaes ntes kas.</span>”</p><p>“<span>Aey qobu se wapqz ze sohu zqoz luhakaes new zqu sarraesk en rabuk az karr astohz.</span>”</p><p><em>Clap-clap </em>.</p><p>Having gotten their attention, as well as an update from Xelha, Melodia smiled winsomely and cooed, “Savyna, if you’re here, that must mean there’s a way out. Would you be a dear and show us?”</p><p>Savyna’s face changed subtly, too much so to get a read on what she was thinking. “It’s a tight squeeze. To make worthwhile progress, we’ll need to deal with the rubble between the History and Science Sections.”</p><p>She drew them a crude map with the end sleeves of a legal textbook and a faintly chewed pencil found under a table. The collapse, it seemed, looked worse from their side than it really was; aside from the blocked hallway and some open ceilings, the library remained relatively intact. The hall continued its inward curve with four other sections branching off: Science, Magic, Linguistics, and Mathematics. There was another room in the dead center of the building that proclaimed itself forbidden.</p><p>Savyna left them to plan their next course of action. She took it upon herself to rouse each and every villager and organize them into demolition crews. For their part, her mere presence calmed them down considerably—what brief snippets Xelha overheard suggested she was a local hero of some kind—and they eagerly submitted themselves.</p><p>“Will they be able to handle it?” asked Xelha as she watched them stumble out of the hub.</p><p>“They’re hardier than they appear,” Savyna replied, “And we have the more difficult mission.”</p><p>“Finding the culprits behind the machina gas leak,” frowned Larikush.</p><p>Melodia stretched and said, “I have an idea where to start.”</p><p>With purpose she strode to the back room and rammed the door with both shields, holding them in place and pumping them full of dark energy. When they had absorbed as much as they could handle, she released the energy all at once, throwing in a mid-tier fire spell for good measure.</p><p>The head librarian’s office door would never trouble anyone again.</p><p>Melodia stepped inside and exclaimed, “Oh! Well hello there, little one~ ”</p><p>The rest followed suit, finding none other than Mayfee, safe, sound, and in vastly improved health. The room had been thoroughly cleaned of blood and dust, and the only litter in sight was a bunch of crumpled-up leaves. They, as well as her cheeks, were coated in crumbs.</p><p>“Miss Savyna!” she squeaked, making grabbing motions until she was picked up, “Does this mean I can go back home?”</p><p>It earned her a small smile and hair ruffle. “Soon. Were you treated well?”</p><p>“Mmhm!” she nodded cheerfully, “I was scared at first but the pink-haired lady was really nice to me! And the blue man cleaned things up so I would stop crying.” </p><p>“Ayme and Folon?” Larikush said wonderingly.</p><p>Xelha examined the floor. It was as if blood had never been spilled. “They must have been aboard the <em> Goldoba </em>. But why…?”</p><p>Savyna cut her off. “We don’t have enough information to speculate. Let’s move on for now.”</p><p>And so they did.</p><p>Mayfee skipped alongside the group as they searched the available rooms and checked on the villagers’ progress. She was eager to tell them all about her captors and the things they’d done for her, even if one of those things was give her gross medicine.</p><p>According to her, she had been kept briefly in the centermost room along with about twenty or so captured summoners. Folon and Ayme had taken reasonably good care of them, though, as the only child, Mayfee was waited on hand and foot, first by the imperial soldiers, then by someone matching Guillo’s description.</p><p>Mayfee became tired only a few hours later, which Larikush deemed likely to be due to reexposure to the gas. She was left at the ventilation site to be taken care of by villagers on break. With her in a safe location, the party of four went about patrolling in earnest. By the end of the day, the Anuenuans boasted the greater success, having reopened the path to the rest of the library. While many were eager to rescue the missing summoners—Wacho in particular was stopped only by a wave of dizziness that had him sitting down hard—Savyna insisted that everyone get a proper rest, promising to keep watch.</p><p>The next day she once again took charge, splitting the newly-alert villagers into groups of three, one for each strong fighter. That is, except for Mayfee, who planted herself proudly at Savyna’s side. With the greater manpower, they were able to much more thoroughly sweep the grounds.</p><p>“Lady Xelha?” began Hehena as they did a final once-over of the Magic Section, “I… apologize for how I’ve treated you. If I’d only listened….”</p><p>She gave him a friendly smile. “But you did listen. I know the things I was saying are hard to believe. No one can blame you for thinking I was making it up to make you feel better.”</p><p>He laughed and ran a rough hand through his hair. “I guess you’re right again.” More at ease, he sidled closer and asked, “So you really can’t tell me how you did it?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not. My family has guarded its secrets jealously since the islands rose to the Sky.” Her upturned lips quirked in apology. “But when humans return to the Earth, I’m sure you’ll hear all about it.”</p><p>“Making fun of me now, are you?” he laughed.</p><p>Burying her relief that her slip-up went unnoticed, she replied playfully, “Maybe just a—”</p><p>In her distraction, she missed the tell-tale hiss of standard imperial winglets firing up until one was planted in her left shoulder, knocking her to her side.</p><p>“<span>Tuola net o tusozvk, sezk?</span>” sneered Ayme from above, grinding her heel into the wound from their first encounter.</p><p>Xelha could only choke out a pained cry, writhing like a pinned bug. Her arm instantly lost most of its feeling below the nerve, but the awkward angle made it difficult to do anything about it. In desperation, she summoned her wings and beat them as fast as she could.</p><p>Ayme merely grabbed hold of one of them and yanked at it until her prey stilled. “<span>A veyrl dyrr zkuthu eyz tabkz sek</span>.” Her voice went down an octave. “<span>Keyrl aey ravu zkoz?</span>” </p><p>She lifted her foot and slammed it back down. The motion was agony to both Xelha’s wing and her shoulder.</p><p>She continued. “<span>Ze nuur eyt doas? Aey refua-lefua zaduth buz enn es zkoz, tabkz?</span>” </p><p>The pressure on Xelha’s wing eased as Ayme leaned down to whisper in her ear, “<span>Kyz ku vsek kkoz aey tuorra otu yslut zkoz dtuzza novu osl zkethu ntobaru kasbth—aey’tu os ekr, ravu A ythul ze ku.</span>”</p><p>Larikush’s voice came from beyond her sightline. “<span>A keyrl kofu byuththul fyrzytu sathurn.</span>”</p><p>Ayme froze. Then, moving her hands so that one gripped Xelha’s throat and the other dug into her shoulder, she uncoiled herself and rose, turning to face him. “<span>Levzet. Resb zasu se thuu.</span>” The condescension was palpable in every drawled word.</p><p>He looked nervous in a way Xelha had never seen before. “<span>A karr brolra—</span>”</p><p>“<span>—’zovu kut drovu’? Zkoz’th zee uotha net zku ravuth en aey.</span>” A cruel smirk crawled onto her face, tangible at the narrow distance between their cheeks. “<span>Kssss, A keslut kek aey veyrl vesfasvu su ze ruz zkath zteykrusovut be….</span>”</p><p>His eyes flicked to Xelha’s.</p><p>He remained silent.</p><p>Ayme pressed her apparent advantage. “<span>Ekk, the thetta. Reevth ravu Lev kutu foryuth o kot vtasasor efut o vyzu zkasb ravu aey.</span>” </p><p>To Xelha’s horror, Ayme’s left hand rooted around her shoulder until it found the shallow valley of the barely-healed wound. One by one her fingers slid into the groove, gentle enough to be a lover’s caress.</p><p>And then they curled into a hook and rammed upwards.</p><p>Next thing she knew, all of Xelha’s weight had fallen backwards and she was panting, the nerves in her throat still screaming long after she herself had stopped.</p><p>Footsteps pounded in from all directions, the sound overwhelming in light of her pain.</p><p>Folon was the first to speak, sidling up alongside them. “<span>Kkoz le ku kofu kutu? Zku loybkzut-as-rok?</span>”</p><p>“<span>Keyrls’z zkoz ku thesuzkasb? Razzru koka Kalas, orr bteks yd</span>!” Ayme laughed raucously.</p><p>“‘Kalas’?” echoed Xelha, “Where is he? Have you taken him?”</p><p>Her captor glanced at Folon. “</p><p>“<span>Thku zkasvth ku kofu Kalas</span>,” was his nonchalant reply. He leaned in close and, maintaining unblinking eye contact with Xelha, said, “<span>Thduovasb en, kka sez zovu eyt nofetazu levzet yd es kath ennut? Ku’l sovu kuzzut koaz net eyt thevaorra-asdoatul kesetota sudkuk. Soaku ku vos buz thesu asne es Georg zee.</span>”</p><p>He seemed about to continue but the sudden emergence of a truly ghastly smell stopped him mid choking breath. Melodia stalked into view with water droplets slowly winding down her shields.</p><p>Folon snorted, not the slightest bit impressed. “Pink girl, remember? Don’t try.”</p><p>Her eyes flicked to Xelha’s and, in an instant, she realized what the plan was. “You will remove your hands from Lady Xelha this instant, or face the consequences~”</p><p>Xelha braced herself.</p><p>“<em>Bio Blast! </em>”</p><p>Before the spell could do more than form a noxious cloud around her, Xelha had sundered it with a single blow of chronos, thus redirecting the attack into the two nearest targets.</p><p>As she tumbled away, Savyna leapt over her like a jaguar, clawed gauntlet just barely missing her opponents’ throats.</p><p>The hall erupted.</p><p>Villagers removed themselves from the scene in a not-so-orderly fashion. Wacho was reduced to playing a human shield, as Ayme’s attacks were too fast for anyone other than Xelha and Savyna to so much as dream of dodging.</p><p>“<em>Hastera Stream!” </em> cried Larikush just in time to avoid a chain whip to the face. He spun his staff into position to use as a firearm.</p><p>Xelha fell back to his side, detonating a string of light in her wake to slow Ayme’s pursuit. Savyna intercepted the assassin and the two traded fast-paced kicks and punches. neither making much headway on the other.</p><p>In an attempt to take out Folon, who had a whip wrapped firmly around one of Larikush’s ankles, Wacho flung Melodia bodily across the room. Both target and missile cursed as they collided and fell to the ground, flailing whatever limbs weren’t entangled. Ultimately she was overpowered by her stronger opponent and kicked away, though not without giving Wacho time to move back in and engage him.</p><p>Savyna had Ayme pinned when she inexplicably froze. The Al Zhani took the opportunity to coil back and kick with both legs, activating her winglets at the same time. Larikush slipped back into his native tongue in his rush to heal the many burns, cuts, and bumps she accrued.</p><p>Although preoccupied with a mountain of muscle, Folon was able to flick a wrist towards their healer, imbedding the stinger-like end of his whip into his lower back. Melodia healed him and dove back into battle, expending all of her energy into a single dark attack that barely scratched her adversary.</p><p>While she was recovering, Folon slipped from Wacho’s grip and punched her cheek. Her head smacked into the wall behind her and she crumpled.</p><p>“<em>Revive Stream! Protect Wall! </em>”</p><p>At first Xelha wondered how she could have been so reckless. Then she noticed the flickers of electricity running down his arms. Building. Roiling. A sense of inhuman power.</p><p>As one, she and Melodia flew upwards, hovering back to back in their casting stances. They only had one chance to repel whatever dark power was rising.</p><p>“<em>Biara Blast! </em>”</p><p>“<em>Holia Flare!” </em></p><p>“<em>FIRA BURST! </em>”</p><p>The three spells converged simultaneously on Folon, breaking his concentration. As he staggered to brace himself against the wall, the source of the third revealed himself.</p><p>It was Tik.</p><p>At his left flank was Odette, a cat-like personal aeon at the ready; to the right Rheong, a bronze scimitar held parallel to their ear. Sirius sat cross-legged midair behind Tik, wings only visible as a purple blur.</p><p>And there, rounding the corner in a sprint with the golden glint of weapon in hand, was Guillo.</p><p>“You cannot win this fight.”</p><p>At first she thought he was talking to them.</p><p>“Joke?” snorted Folon. His grin faded when Guillo’s arm did not so much as waver.</p><p>“I am afraid not. Please, you must escape while you have the chance.”</p><p>“You….” Strangely enough, he sounded more resigned than angry at the betrayal. In fact, he didn’t sound angry at all. Nor did Ayme when he whispered a translation.</p><p>“<span>Tul?</span>” she started, “<span>Kuk. Aey reev eyz net aeytthurn, bez az?</span>” She disengaged from her halted bout with Savyna and joined Folon, giving Guillo a lazy salute. “See not day.”</p><p>“<span>Zkasv okeyz kkoz ku’tu ennutasb. Oth not oth ku’tu vesvutsul, aey’tu vazk.</span>”</p><p>And then they were gone.</p><p>Finally his arm lost its strength and lowered shakily to the ground, dragging his gaze with it. “I am truly sorry for all that I have done. They were adamant that there was no reason to keep the summoners safe, and so I hoped to parlay….”</p><p>Xelha didn’t let him finish, diving into a relieved hug. “You should have just said so!”</p><p>“M-Miss Xelha?!”</p><p>Chuckling, Melodia alighted as well, placing a comforting hand on the back of his neck. “Indeed~ I was worried we’d be forced to eliminate you.”</p><p>“You’re a brave man, Guillo,” said Larikush, gripping his shoulder.</p><p>The moment was broken by Savyna. “Let’s move. There’s still a ways to go before we’ll reach Komo Mai. And, from my experience, Kalas will have already gotten himself into trouble.”</p><p>Those who had been trapped in the Ancient Library of Magic, now tripled in number from the addition of the rescued summoners, were greeted by the morning sun blazing through the enormous hole in the Science Section.</p><p>“Oh! I nearly forgot,” Melodia was saying in the background to Mayfee, “I overheard something after I was captured, something about a plot concerning the Celestial Tree?” </p><p>The conversation was lost on Xelha, engaged as she was with the outside world. The breeze was warm and invigorating and sweet and alive.</p><p>They had been delivered of the darkest pit of night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 8/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 3/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. In Which Whither Was Whence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h5>
  
</h5><p>
  <span>“Miss Melodia, would you care for more lychee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, but I couldn’t eat another bite~“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo settled back into place beside Xelha with the bundle of fruit from his market trip. She served him a bowl of sweet roasted pow, him providing passionfruit in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had never felt more decadent than this day, sipping mead on a stone pavilion surrounded by lily-slathered water. The sun had set behind the west wing of Queen Corellia’s palace, smearing the starlit sky in pink and gold, which had proven too beautiful for her to stay focused on <span>her studies</span>. The line of the horizon was blurred beyond discernment, the rosy clouds melting seamlessly into the living garlands that threaded the capital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From their much-needed day of rest, Xelha knew that the streets would be filled with nobility in evening silks, accompanied by handmaidens in hoop skirts of woven flowers, who would artfully guide them with parasols of the same. They would grace upon those vendors in the festival market whom had not quite sold all their wares and relieve them of their surplus. Whether a show of generosity or wealth, she’d heard it was the traditional end of a night during the tricennial Flower Festival, the celebration of the Celestial Tree that provided for them so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She briefly let herself imagine finding Kalas in the dusk and twining together beneath a perfumed canopy, nibbling on Anuenuan cookies and cakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kalas wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna sat stoic, yet exuded a definite air of fury. Larikush, on the other hand, accepted the turn of events with little more than a mutter in his mother tongue. It sounded blasé even through the language barrier. Melodia, seemingly recovered from her ordeal, was back to serene smiles. And Guillo had taken to compulsive people-pleasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She herself only maintained her composure because she’d had no further visions of Kalas beyond what was the norm. Nor, for that matter, any regarding other matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Be that as it may, she who approached the party certainly felt like a vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queen Corellia had a dainty, ageless appearance that belied the true body of her presence; though at first glance her raiment seemed to constitute most of her mass, there was a powerful core under the voluminous happi and train, to say nothing of her aura. It left the impression of immense power, so much so that a yet more immense will was all that contained it from crushing all in her path like insects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if in apology for her overwhelming ambience, her hands were extended in humble gesture: left lowered palm-up in charity, right forming a closed circle with thumb and index finger, an invitation to discussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes, the iridescent green-black of a beetle’s carapace, were as softly lined with red kohl as her lips were with rouge. Uncommonly pale skin was crowned with an ebony wig made up of a multiplicity of braids and a headdress of skillfully knotted cloth. From the front dangled a pair of silken ornaments designed after a flowering vine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her happi was scarlet and painstakingly patterned in gold with a scene of flowers and birds. It was layered with green and pink, lined with a black silk cord and hemming. Her geta were solid and over a hand tall, lacquered black and ornamented with large red blossoms on the toe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the true wonder was her mantle, a large white mass that curved over her shoulders like a sepal or, perhaps, an exoskeleton. From it flowed a train so fluid, so shifting, it challenged the viewer to determine if it was cloth or water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Fairy Guide glided so smoothly across the grounds that Xelha was astounded to realize she had not brought forth her wings. Before they could decide if it would be proper to fly to meet her, she had already stepped onto a lilypad, startling out a burst of pyreflies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Fairy Guide,” gasped Guillo, holding out a hand to the lazily floating orbs. The others were similarly overcome with awe. Melodia even had silent tears pouring out of her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s right</span>
  </em>
  <span>, realized Xelha, amused</span>
  <em>
    <span>, outside of Wazn….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The ancient being calling herself Corellia came to a halt in front of Xelha, who had risen without meaning to, and cupped her face with delicate hands.</span>
</p><p><span>“You honor me with your presence, Your—” She broke off at the sight</span> <span>of Xelha mouthing </span><em><span>‘no’</span></em><span>. “—Holiness.” The pause was so smooth, it was easily attributed to a fault of one’s own ears.</span></p><p>
  <span>“The honor is all mine, Your Majesty. My name is Xelha. I’m here on behalf of my summoner, Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corellia’s eyes flicked across each of the faces. She appeared to gather the essentials of the situation and stepped to the side, letting her arms fall. “I see. I would be interested to meet the summoner who earned the devotion of such a retinue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning her gaze downwards, Xelha sighed, “Then he really hasn’t come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My grandson was expected to meet us in the capital,” Larikush explained, “A knight of Diadem by the name of Gibari sent us here to request access to the Cloister of Trials, but we were attacked by an imperial warship along the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was heartened to see the queen’s eyes flicker in recognition of the name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna picked up the thread of the story. “My wife found him. She was to bring him here while I searched for his guardians.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, I have not encountered this Summoner Kalas. However,” Corellia said, casting a calculating eye upon Xelha, “I would not wish for you to leave empty-handed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I couldn’t!” she stammered, “I’m just a guardian, and I couldn’t get Leviathan besides….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All she received was a cryptic smile, followed by her fellow queen leaning over to place a tingling kiss on her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pixie goes with you,” she murmured, and swept away.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What…?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The moment seemed to stretch into eternity.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Well met, Pixie, or so I should say. The Tree ails, and with it the Rainbow Nation.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep inside her, just above the core formed by Shiva herself, Pixie replied with a bell-like tinkling.</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>- .... . / -.-. -.— -.-. .-.. . / ..-. .-. .- -.— ... .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- / ... .... . / —. .-. —- .— ... / - —- —- / .— . .- -.- / —- -. / —. .-. ..- . .-.. .-.-.-</span></b>
</p><p>
  <b>...I see. Perhaps your plight can sway my wayward heir.</b>
</p><p>
  <b><span>-.— —- ..- / — ..- ... - / -... . / .—. .- - .. . -. - .-.-.- / .-.. . - / ..- ... / - .-. ..- ... - / - .... . / -.— —- ..- -. —. —..— / .— .... —- / .... —- .-.. -.. / - .... . / ... .—. .. .-. .. - / .— .. - .... .. -. / - .... . — .-.-.-</span></b>
</p><p>
  <b>Ever you content yourself to passivity.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please… you’re too loud,” murmured Xelha, not daring to do anything more to relieve her discomfort in front of others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The presence inside her body felt too massive, too gargantuan to contain within her skin. The power was no longer a benign swell but a surge, a hurricane, thundering falls, jerking every which way ‘til she could no longer tell up from down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt like a wineskin overfilled, dizzy and stretched ‘til her fibres were torn asunder. She was a mosquito, overgorged and bloated on the lifeblood of eons past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha clenched her hands together in hopes of finding a focus. What she instead found was a dancing vision of her flesh as gnarled bark. Her movements seemed smeared, shuttered, as if there was a delay between choosing to move and some divine artist hurrying to comply with brush strokes. Her roots tangled together and attempted to burrow into the ground. Writhed. Spreadeagled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A monster stopped her. Its claws, carved and gleaming bone, held her in place, joined quickly by a ghostly apparition that howled unceasingly, as well as a faceless automaton. All smelled rank, the white-clawed beast most so. But none could compare to the fouled corpse that trailed its pus-slicked fingers across her temples. Its decomposition seemed to radiate out from the heart—or rather, the coal-like tumor that stood in its place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scent….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The form….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The roiling malevolence….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma—Ma—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>i̊ͬCͦͪ͌͌͒̇̏ͩe̿̔͂̓̅ͥ̈ ̓̽̽̿͂̌q̌ͨU͊̇̇ͬE̿̊̽Ěͪn̓ͤ̃͐͑͑.̏̍́̃̓͂ͩ.̂͆͆̈̓̓͑ͩ.̏ͨ ̐̌́̒̌I͊̉ͩͩ̅̃Cͣ͌̽̑̅͌̿eͨͪͧ͑͑ͮ͒ ͑Q͑ͬ̉̽̿U̽̈́ͦͦ͌ȇEͫNͬ̀̽ͪ.̓͋͛̐͗.͊͆ͪͮ̀ͦͭ͑.̈̿ ͨ͗̎̈́Ỉ͗Cͨͮ̈͒̂̏̚Ěͭ̔́̀̂ͬ ͛Q̔͂̂̓͌ͪ̈́ͦ̿Uͫͮ̆̓̂̊ÈͧͯE͑Nͪͪͭͪ͊̚.̒͐̒.̔͐̏.̍͗ͯ!̀ͦͧ̔ͥ</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>An unholy choir spoke over itself to make threats, each more nauseating and violating than the last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>MAL—!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Stench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Monsters. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Demons.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aloneness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worthlessness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No name, no voice, no soul, no hope, no memory, no justice, no despair, no existence, no right to existence, no air, no breaths, no heartbeat, no mercy, no sun, no wings, no bone, no grave, no epithet, no mourners, no kin, no kith, no ken, no eternity, no heaven nor hell nor purgatory nor beyond nor mortality nor senses—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sublime ennui, sublime weltschmerz, sublime melancholia, sublime </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>dépité, sublime lebensmüde, sublime mutterseelinallein, sublime toska—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No, none of those, for the void—within, without, could one claim proof of differentiation?—consumed all concept of such things, such mortal conceits, their base ignorance, meaningless thoughts—no, such things were but illusions of the unexisting, glib longing for lies to be fruitful, for lies to be truth, for lies to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>lies.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“MALPERCIO!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Xelha, dear, are you awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head throbbed. “B-Barnette, nooo….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guillo, she only just woke up. Answers can wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Under normal circumstances I would agree. But Lady Death is a different matter. I have held my questions long enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha slowly unfolded to find herself back in the guest chamber, Melodia hovering with a glass of pale yellow juice. In the background, Larikush was attempting to mediate between a distrustful Guillo and blank-faced Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Praetor Lyude, son of Marquis Lyuvann, son of House Lyuvard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo froze. “What are you—please, just explain why you are here, why you are helping us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> is why I’m helping you,” she shot back. She leaned more of her weight against the wall and stared him down with an unreadable expression. Without looking away, she said, “Xelha. Melodia. You’ve heard of Azha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha had, in the vague sense that the Al Zhani were a subset of the Al Fhard, treated by their countrymen as drudges. Most of the islands didn’t care to know more with the threat of the Empire hanging above their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Melodia who answered. “Azha is all that remains of the Zha Nation of Alfard. Two years ago, the Empire carried out a blood purge as retribution for an uprising.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha gasped, wondering why the other nations hadn’t reached out, hadn’t lent troops that the Empire be vanquished once and for all.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely joining hands with one another would have a much greater chance of success….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But Savyna was giving a sharp nod, so she tabled her speculations to listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I carried it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her first thought was one of concern for Larikush, but the Al Zhani had no reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did he know all along? And he agreed to travel with her?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her eyes flicked to Guillo, who remained tense. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guillo, could he believe he’s Al Zhani? And Rheong….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was there when the Emperor gave the order. There was only one hero in that room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two,” Xelha asserted. She tried to convey the convictions swirling in her head—the obvious guilt, the efforts at atonement, the acknowledgement of her past weakness—but Savyna brushed it off with a not-quite-snort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia, taking Xelha’s distraction as an opportunity to bully her into hydrating, mused, “I’ve never heard of a Praetor Lyude before. Was it a bloodline promotion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In part.” When it became apparent her audience wasn’t satisfied, she continued, “His legitimacy was questionable. He was given minor rank and kept out of public view… at least until the Emperor used his preported Al Zhani blood in propaganda. From what I understand, he primarily handled clerical work, artillery drills, and day-to-day law enforcement and fiend disposal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he was able to reach praetor? That doesn’t sound like the empire as I know it,” said Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pursed lips. “...He was an anomaly. The praetor was the spine of the army—in more ways than one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a way of reaching him?” asked Xelha, “He sounds like a useful contact to have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush and Guillo exchanged a look. The other two merely stared at her in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I see,” she murmured, head turning down. She clasped her hands and spoke the Ocean’s Prayer for the lost soul of a hero.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw things in Azha that I’ll never forget. When I heard that he had been executed, I lost any hope that something in the world made sense. If I hadn’t met Cid, I might still be looking for a purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, to the extent that she swore she could see them do so one by one, Guillo’s muscles untensed. When he was ready to speak, he sounded sad. “You haven’t said what the praetor did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not much,” replied Savyna with an odd almost-smile, “He advocated for Azha directly to the Emperor. He might’ve gotten away with a demotion if not for his mixed blood and specialized training.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo nodded, silent but for the rasp of cloth. He asked no more questions, instead making his way to the window to stare into the near-full moon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It appeared the conversation was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha let herself be led to the table to shore herself up with fruit, in the process catching Savyna’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This happen often?” she asked coolly. Her expression was once again unreadable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Xelha a moment to realize what she meant. “Oh! Not really, though I suppose I have been worse lately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Worse’ how?” asked Larikush. He settled across from her with a pen and notebook—the same, she noticed, that he had used in the library. “Is it an underlying condition?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um.” She didn’t dare invoke her oath for such a small issue, lest it lose potency as an excuse, but the truth was multifaceted, many aspects of which she could not speak. “I was ill some time ago,” she said, deciding on a half-truth, “Sometimes I forget that I haven’t recovered my full strength yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anything, his frown only deepened. “Xelha, if I’m understanding correctly, you’re rebuilding your stamina, perhaps also your motor skills?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stamina, yes, and she supposed the ability to access magic counted as a ‘motor skill’ “Yes, that’s right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo’s head snapped dramatically in her direction. The two imperials were less expressive but their eyes still noticeably widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo murmured, “Miss Xelha… surely you—” He cut himself off. “I would not wish to presume—” He fell silent again. However, he stayed engaged with what was happening in the center of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too late she realized the liability she’d revealed herself to be. “Please, you can trust me. I’ve been doing much better since I started this journey. I mean, I’ve been collapsing more, but I’ve had greater access to my faculties than I have in years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The concerned looks of her companions were close to choking her. The most decisive was Savyna, who opened her mouth to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha held a staying hand aloft. “I promise I won’t be a burden, just please… don’t make me abandon Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wouldn’t know his eye color until they met, so shrouded by terror were they. It would be years yet before she would look into his eyes and see her soul reflected back at her—the sadness, the endless depths of blue.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha…,” began Larikush, “After you recovered from your illness, were you ever guided through physical therapy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was not the question she’d anticipated. “Why would I? It… was largely an illness of the heart.” Thinking back on her answer, she realized where it might be misleading. “Oh! It’s my magic I’ve been having trouble with—I’m fine with base spells but the upper tiers and my summoning are a bit draining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her shoulder twinged in remembrance of her first encounter with Ayme. At her full strength, she would have ended it sooner. At her full strength, she wouldn’t be left with a numbness that occasionally made her forget she even had a second arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha, it’s not healthy for you to strain yourself like that,” said Larikush, holding up a hand to forestall protest, “Rushing your recovery could result in permanent damage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—’am the Witch Queen’? ‘The most powerful black mage the world over?’ What were you planning to say, Xelha?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shushed her, gently but firm, and continued, “I had a patient who was bitten by a cornered rock cat. His knee suffered nerve damage and, had he not come to me, the effect it had on his gait would likely have prevented his continued work in hunting and pest management, to say nothing of his day-to-day comfort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mistaking her thought process, Guillo added, “Imagine that happening to your magic. I know it’s frustrating to proceed slowly, but you must think of the long term.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna motioned him quiet, eyes intently focused on Xelha’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then that she realized she’d reflexively clutched at it with her other hand. Mouth dry, she stuttered, “I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have told me it still hurt,” scolded Melodia, stepping forward to trace the stitching on the happi she’d helped put in place, “It’s been a week!” To the others she explained, “On Sadal Suud, Kalas was captured by the Al Fhard. Our efforts at a rescue went awry, and this one gained an unfortunate trophy from a tete-a-tete with their leader, Giacomo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was Ayme, but you healed me soon after—” she tried to protest, but Larikush was already scribbling furiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Describe exactly what happened, </span>
  <em>
    <span>including</span>
  </em>
  <span> environmental factors, if you would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hooking, the wrenching, the slamming of her shoulder. Her forced reliance upon it in the moment. The blaze and the snowsquall. The numbness after healing. And once she was done, he asked her about her most recent encounter with her opponent, reminding her so sharply of the fear and agony of that moment that, for an instant, she found herself reliving it; she came back to herself with her wrists held in place by Savyna, seemingly caught mid-swing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put his pen down and sighed. “You have severe nerve damage, not in the least aided by your recklessness with the affected limb.” His countenance bore either disapproval or concern, though she wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was ‘both’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon his orders, she raised her arms, dismayed at the haltered range of motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How long has it been this bad?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered. Then, more urgently, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is this what happened to my magic?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t meet the others’ eyes. Especially when hers began to well up in shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Xelha…,” Guillo whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d gone into full-on tears; to the doctor’s left and right sat the red mage and the field commander, each drawing up a therapy regimen for their area of expertise under his watchful eye. She heard a muttered argument about scheduling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she replied, though she couldn’t put into words what it was that she knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was probably a flight of fancy, but his visor seemed to glint with sympathy. “I am truly sorry. I noticed that you were favoring that arm but assumed—regardless, I might have asked after your health. Were that I more conscientious, your recovery may have been hastened.” He ended with a bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guillo, you can’t blame yourself!” she insisted, “We met after the fact… and with everything going on….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The signs were all there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had no reason to look for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared him down until he nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the background, Larikush was vetoing a demanding schedule proposed by Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing their companions still busy, he lightly touched her elbow to call her attention back. “Um, Xelha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Guillo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I’m not mistaken, you have been made aware of my situation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What a relief! I was worried he hadn’t noticed his missing memories,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought. Bewilderment struck her then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But why is a godcraft using machina if he has access to magic? And why does he know so much about the Empire?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As she no longer needed to tiptoe around the truth, she decided it was worth asking directly about her suspicions. “The Empire held you prisoner, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Emperor Geldoblame, Alfard and her people, islands from willful Mira to legendary Wazn, the Great Whale itself—they may call me whatever they will, for it shall not change this one truth ensconced in my very soul: I stand only for justice. If it costs me all else that I am, I will uphold that virtue… even should it pit me against that which I hold dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t help but smile; in that moment, the spirit that slayed the wicked god could be no more apparent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed startled at the positive response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an emphatic motion of her arms, she said, low but earnest, “Guillo, you didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. And when Sin is gone for good, everyone will see!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gone… ‘for good’...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flushing in embarrassment, she backpedaled, “Uh, I… please forget I said that! Mother would be so disappointed in me.” She could’ve kicked herself—no godcraft was believed to have survived the battle. While clearly untrue, it was unlikely that any were there to witness the martyrdom of the Ice Queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Would she now?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva sounded rather dry for an aeon of frost. It was an unusually human showing for the millenium-hardened spirit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your oath,” he guessed, nodding once more, “Of course. I shan’t ask again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask what?” It was Savyna, eagle-eyed attention on the pair, her task having been completed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha is </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> the mysterious one~♥~” giggled Melodia, slipping her copy of the schedule into a magnus, “She’s sworn oaths of secrecy to her clan~”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is it just me, or….</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, it wasn’t. Savyna’s brow had ticked up ever-so-slightly. She suspected it wasn’t good to garner such interest from one entitled ‘Lady Death’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My kinsfolk have been an unbroken chain since the birth of Yevon—there are a lot of traditions from that time that I mustn’t speak of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Seeing’ was the trouble; too many people were seeing too many truths about her. The previous conversation between Guillo and herself, she realized with a sinking heart, was a trove of information she was better off keeping hidden.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have no reason to distrust my companions,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she reminded herself sternly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, at least, was the absolute truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It struck her then just how new their bonds truly were. She’d known Larikush for a mere week, give and take a day or two for Melodia and Guillo respectively. Destiny bound her to Kalas and Guillo, but they didn’t feel the same connection. If she could convince Kalas to stop his reckless plans, he’d never have a reason to know. Guillo could hopefully be spared from the truth as well. As for the others…. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knowledge that she would never be able to be fully candid with her evening tea friend filled her with preemptive regret. She’d be lucky if she was able to say goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In another life, he’d be my father-in-law.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She had no time to dwell, for Guillo was gasping, “So if I understand correctly, you are considered nobility amongst your people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too close. “Only so much as all summoners are,” she laughed, “I’m actually the first in a long time to go on a pilgrimage. We mostly act as priestesses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not familiar,” Savyna commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, at least, she’d been drilled on ad nauseum the moment she declared her intention to step out from the Land of Ice. “I’m sorry, but my people have been attacked in the past by those who misunderstand our practices.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, if you count the Wezn Incident, that’s almost true.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Part of your oath.” It was a statement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for understanding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that followed, though awkward, barely lasted a moment before she was commandeered into a seat by her two physical therapy instructors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to start by massaging the muscles,” said Larikush, taking a place at her side, “You consumed a potion shortly after the injury, then were healed by a competent wielder of white magic, so I’m confident that any severing was addressed in that moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She yelped at a knuckle moving a touch too low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He adjusted his hands and continued, “According to the International Potency Scale, the average potion has a potency of 10, hence why they were known as ‘low potions’ in the vernacular of decades past.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna had appeared on her right to demonstrate the first exercise with her unaffected arm. Elbow flush, fist out, turn inward. It was incredibly simple. She tensed at the thought of having to do it with her other arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elixirs are considered a potency of 100 and hi-potions—which, should you ever need to consult medical texts, will be found under the name ‘mid potion’ and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> ‘high potion’—” He paused to grind his teeth in annoyance. “—are 50. The potions we made together are around 30. If you hadn’t had those with you, you might have suffered permanent paralysis at best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I see,” she murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, while she did more good than harm, Melodia didn’t know the full extent of your injuries. It’s highly probable that, in that moment, the injury was healed in a way that caused the axillary nerve to be pinched. I can’t imagine subsequent healings did much to help the situation besides make surgery more risky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-surgery…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were we in Mintaka, I would strongly advise you to consider it. Alas, without access to the proper machina, I don’t have faith in my ability to safely perform it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo chimed in worriedly, “Will Miss Xelha be alright without undergoing surgery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jawline answered before he did. “...The symptoms will continue as they have been. Therefore we must ask Xelha herself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could feel all their eyes on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re aware you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> continue,” added Savyna, staring deep into her eyes, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Should</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helplessly, Xelha glanced Melodia’s way for support, receiving an encouraging smile and nod. “If you’ll have me, then I’ll find a way.” Feeling a bit cheeky, she said in a sing-song manner, “If not, I’ll just have to follow you all on my own~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her companions chuckled in exasperation, but accepted the answer. And so, heavy topics talked to death, they idly chatted as Xelha finished up her exercises before settling in for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Xelha, do you have anymore of that salted sweetfish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, don’t tease the dear for her vices~♥~“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not mean—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s teasing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-oh, of course. My apologies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine! I retrieved some from the crash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so it went.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>At first light, Savyna threw more appropriate attire into their arms. Bustled them out the door and into the streets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breakfast was eaten on the march.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Midday they received a break to pick the burrs out of their clothes and scarf down whatever magnus they had on hand. Too tired to forage. The bugs were not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun set, and still they hadn’t arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another break was called. Xelha and Melodia were exhausted. Larikush looked ready to die. The only ones breathing evenly were the ex-commando and the godcraft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All too soon they were marching again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun sunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moon rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And still they walked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, until just past midnight, when they came upon a marvel of architecture and engineering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was difficult to see clearly despite the beacon of the full moon, but before them stood a magnificent treehouse. Though at first glance it seemed a mere hut, she soon noticed that what had appeared to be vines were actually the cables of an intricate pulley system, designed in such a manner that they blended seamlessly into their organic surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much of the finer workings were hidden by the long, dangling moss, but she could just make out a series of ship wheels. The closest sat to the side of a pulley basket large enough to comfortably fit three people, which was nestled amidst the massive hunched roots of the acacia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was so distracted she almost missed Savyna jump into action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lady De—” Guillo started, palpably winced, and corrected, “Ma’am, what is going on?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he'd finished speaking, she’d already made it to the deck of the house, foregoing the pulley in favor of bounding from branch to branch, using her claw and what little lift she could get from her wings as necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the group exchanged glances and followed. Guillo needed some help but there were more than enough able wings to provide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they alighted, it became clear why she had reacted so: the area around the hut was scattered with belongings. Inside was downright helter-skelter, with every drawer of every storage unit open and spilling across the floor. Torn diagrams littered the floor like hay in a barn, and a <span>familiar textbook</span> was in almost as poor condition as its kin in the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna brushed past Larikush, who’d knelt to peer at the papers. “They’re in danger. Let’s move.” Her exiting the room was immediately followed by the thump at the roots of the tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Savyna,” called Xelha, winging down to intercept her, “We can’t keep up with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flicker in her eyes. Then: “We rest here tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they rejoined the others, she answered Guillo’s sharp glance with, “The tracks I found are fresh. We’ll make better time after a night’s rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He relaxed slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha was digging through her magnus for tea when she heard a snore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush had slumped over onto the floor, asleep, cushioned by the notes he’d been looking over. With Melodia’s help, she lifted and settled him onto the hammock, then settled herself in the hollow below the desk for a fitful rest.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It was again an early morning, but this time their pace was only as fast as Savyna could track. To Xelha’s untrained eye, they appeared to be following hundreds of faint hoofprints, though some appeared almost like tiny shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was much too hot and muggy for anyone to feel like conversation, and she found herself stripping out of her yukata to the bikini underneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Oh, Guillo, you wouldn’t leave us ladies as the only ones baring our skin, would you?” Melodia teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A choking sound came from under his hood and he walked slightly faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t quite sure how to interpret Savyna’s sigh.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was days later, when Xelha was beginning to consider calling upon the pyreflies, damn the consequences, that the ground shook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oliphant?” guessed Larikush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna frowned tersely. “Our quarry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was when the tree to their right was crushed beneath a pair of giant feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha blinked to find herself on her side in a pile of detritus, head ringing and vision full of bursting pinpricks. Dazedly, she attempted to sit up, only to be grounded by a wave of nausea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cura Stream!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her shoulder made its displeasure known at its further subjugation to counterproductive healing, but she was well-used to ignoring it. What was more important was leaping to her feet and beyond, gaining the necessary altitude to regroup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moth—moth—moth—” wailed the monstrosity shambling unsteadily towards her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a doll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A massive, horribly damaged doll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in its movements was simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as if it was unaware of its own body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From behind her, Savyna sprang forward into a mighty punch, channeling a cool blue energy to continue the assault for her. Her only words were:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cid’s pet project. Calcabrina. Take it down fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she was flipping away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha didn’t waste the opportunity; by the time Calcabrina took another tottering step, she was on the other end of the battlefield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aberration stood in the middle of the clearing it had made. Savyna was darting around on foot, heckling it, while Larikush attempted to gain some distance from its stomping feet. Melodia, meanwhile, was dive-bombing it in a spiral of fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where’s Guillo? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She scanned the ground for her missing companion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha!” called Larikush, seeming to realize her intention, “There!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or perhaps the sight of their companion being crushed by a wooden fist was his reason for pausing mid-retreat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aqua…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the water in the air bent to her will, she put on a burst of speed, aiming directly for Calcabrina’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>BURST!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently the automaton could feel pain, for it released Guillo with a wail of “Moth! Moth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha dodged the answering swipe and caught Guillo’s hand as he flailed midair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My thanks, Miss Xelha!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy to—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Light Flare!</span>
  </em>
  <span>—happy to help!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rankled her to see how little her spells were doing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If only I could use a higher level of spell—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A grunt of pain brought them back to the situation on the ground. Larikush hadn’t managed to get out of the way after tipping Xelha off, and was straining under the pressure of holding back a stomp with the broad side of his staff. Even Savyna clawing her way up the other leg and Melodia’s dives weren’t distracting Calcabrina.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Xelha, would it be possible to further stabilize your flight?” asked Guillo, machina weapon in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She started to climb tracks of water left by her earlier spell, but the strain on her magical reservoir (in concert with recent lectures) made her rethink it. Instead she decided to sync her attack with Melodia’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fire Burst!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small blaze began on Calcabrina’s arms, giving her leave to put all her focus into steadying her wingbeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SHWING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SHWING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SHWING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo’s aim was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calcabrina’s right forearm fell off, the joint severely damaged. It hit the ground and shattered into—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dolls?!” gasped Guillo as they dodged a giant haymaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true, impossible as it seemed. With the tell-tale shimmer of magic, the limb had split into roughly thirty child-sized dolls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the wake of its loss, Calcabrina shrieked wordlessly and uprooted a nearby tree, which it shoved into the emptied socket. The new addition worsened its already dubious balance, forcing it to bend to the side and drag the limb as it walked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, the distraction was enough for Larikush to extricate himself. He made a mighty leap from the forest floor all the way to the canopy, where he was invisible but for the glint of his staff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seconds later, Calcabrina reared back from the shot fired directly into its eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time it had recovered, leaning forward to reveal the spiderweb cracks that continued under its heavily drooping eyelid, the glint had swished away in a familiar motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha echoed it in time to call out in unison, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Holiara Flare!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could feel his reproving glare through the trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The twin spells ripped through Calcabrina’s body. As the light faded, it was given no time to recover—Guillo widened the wound with a slash of a razer-like beam of pink light, followed by Savyna launching herself at the chasm in its chest in a puff of fire and smoke. Melodia flew into the hollow and set off a spell of pure concussive force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moth… errr,” moaned first one, then one hundred dolls as they toppled to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s incredible how they came to life like that,” gushed Melodia, squatting to look more closely at a masculine doll with a caved-in face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In all my years…,” agreed Larikush, “I studied those notes and still I never would have imagined the properties to be gained by using dag—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enemy defeated,” snapped Savyna, stepping to block Xelha’s view of a doll hand with strangely-articulated fingers, “Let’s move on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>The verl! Lal aey buz aeyt sosu ntes zku sothth btofuth et zku kaslth en kurr?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice came from behind Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The attack came from behind Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush bellowed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span><span>DTEZUVZ KORR!</span>
  </span></em>
  <span></span>”
</p><p>
  <span>The spell settled just in time to save her life from a barrage of metal projectiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ayme! Folon!” yelled Guillo, wheeling to be back-to-back with Savyna, “<span>The az koth aey kke zytsul Cid’th sovkaso oboasthz yth!,/span&gt;”</span>
</span></p><p>
  <span>The enemy sharpshooter sauntered into view. “<span>Val, aey tuorathu zkoz’th Rola Luozk kukasl aey?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever Ayme said had Guillo lurching back towards the edge of the group as if burned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Les’z ku o neer!</span>” Larikush snapped at him, wearily readying his staff, “<span>O zetzytul dothz leuth sez udvythu zku thasth en zke dtuthusz.</span>” He stared intently into Ayme’s eyes. “<span>Ruots zkoz ruththes ntes su, kea, an aey vos’z thzesovk az ntes Rola Luozk.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo hesitated, then eased back to where he’d been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the group arranged themselves to better cover each others’ backs. In front of Xelha and Melodia, Folon was exiting the brush with a what-can-you-do shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All was still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, in accordance to some unobserved signal, the two began circling them in unison. Seeking a weak link.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, failing that, creating one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Thalasb kazk zku Sol Kazvk en Azha?</span>” sneered Folon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Osl beel erl Lev Larikush</span>,” added Ayme, “<span>Kek sosa zasuth lal aey ktasb yth kovv ntes zke ktasv en luozk the aeyt dor Georg veyrl le az orr efut oboas?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush began, “<span>Ku lal aey ktesb—</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A’s beasb ze usbea varrasb aey. Efut osl efut ‘zar ufus aeyt thzevvdaru vos’z thofu aey.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo was the one to respond. “<span>[Ayme, aey vsek zke Usdatu karr esra veszasyu ze uthvorozu zkath kot esvu zke Usdutet ekzoasth zke Lafasu Vkarl. Le kkoz aey vsek ath tabkz; A dtesathu A karr oal aey!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gazed over Melodia’s shoulder at him with a look of pity. “<span>...Votunyr aeyt kuotz leuths’z kruul euz zkutu, thes en Azha.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha let power gather in her core. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Savyna was the one to attack Azha, but Ayme is targeting Guillo….</span>
  </em>
  <span> She chanced at glance at Larikush to her right. But he was focused on Folon, who seemed to be taunting him about Kalas’ other grandfather. And so she met Melodia’s eye instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—aga</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the other mouthed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayme made a sudden lunge towards Xelha but it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tri-Holiaja!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light was blinding even through her eyelids, not that she was fully aware of it with the empty chill swelling inside her. She was sure she ought to be in immense pain, yet the overbearing numbness was somehow even worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was distantly aware of hands slowing her crumple to the ground.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She never lost consciousness. At least, she didn’t think she had. The world was a dizzying, almost nauseating smear of colors. She was wracked with chills, sporadically interspersed with intense flashes of unbearable heat. But even that could not chase away her shivers, leaving her all the more clammy for each spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loss of consciousness would have been a mercy.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Never would this have happened but for your obsession with the Wicked God’s ilk!</b>
</p><p>
  <b><span>-... . / —. . -. - .-.. . / .— .. - .... / - .... . / -.-. .... .. .-.. -.. .-.-.- / -. —- / — .- -. / .. ... / ... . .— -. / ..-. .-. —- — / .- / ... .. -. —. .-.. . / ... - .-. .. .—. / —- ..-. / -.-. .-.. —- - .... —..— / -. —- .-. / ..-. —- .-. . ... - / ... —- .— -. / ..-. .-. —- — / .- / ... .. -. —. .-.. . / ..-. .-. ..- .. - .-.-.- / .. ..-. / -..- . .-.. .... .- / .. ... / - —- / ..-. ..- .-.. ..-. .. .-.. .-.. / .... . .-. / -.. ..- - -.— —..— / .. - / — ..- ... - / -... . / .- ... / .- -. / ..- -. ... ..- -. -.. . .-. . -.. / -... . .. -. —. .-.-.-</span></b>
</p><p>
  <b>You are wise, O Fairy Guide, but the burden of the Ice Queen does not sit the same as that of the Tree.</b>
</p><p>
  <b><span>.. / ... . . .-.-.- / -... ..- - / - .... —- ..- —. .... / .-. ..- ... .... .. -. —. / -.— —- ..- .-. / -.. .- ..- —. .... - . .-. / -.. —- . ... / -. —- - / .—. .-. —- .-.. —- -. —. / .... . .-. / .—. .- .. -. —..— / .. - / -.. —- . ... / . -..- .- -.-. . .-. -... .- - . / .. - .-.-.-</span></b>
</p><p>
  <b>Pain comes as it will. That is the way of life.</b>
</p><p>
  <b><span>- .... . / .... —- ..- .-. / -.. .-. .- .— ... / -. .. —. .... / - .... . -. .-.-.-</span></b>
</p><p>
  <b>And with it the culmination of a millenium of solitude and suffering.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Loss of consciousness would have spared her a migraine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha, we just saw the most incredible feather! It was as long as I am tall and the most curious shade of green,” said Guillo hushedly, voice somewhat cracked from the observations he’d been relaying back to her since they started moving again. Apparently her most recent collapse had been enough to shock him into less formal diction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t working,” said Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon thereafter they paused. Xelha was left to rest on a patch of thick, curling moss. When they continued, it was with her on a newly constructed stretcher. Burlap and branches, if she was correct about the sensation of fibers poking through her clothes with every jostle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia,” called Larikush, “we need to trade places. Xelha could use some cooling down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her forehead was met with a cool hand. Or was it water? Whichever was the case, her lips parted in a silent sigh of relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saved us all,” Melodia whispered, and it was as comforting as her hand.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>At some point she must have fallen asleep, for she stirred at whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squinting her eyes open, she saw the blurry figure of Guillo tending the campfire. His face was contorted in upset, but a slender hand smoothed the wrinkles away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had the vague impression of a woman with long waves of red hair before drifting away to soft, lyrical syllables.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Xelha’s awakening was slow, awareness of her environment ebbing forward and back and forward and back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucidity, when it came, was like lightning jolting through her every muscle—!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—but it was only her eyes that moved. Alarmed, harried, they darted around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun was somewhere to her left, a spider was crawling across her nose, and her companions were finishing off a horde of fiends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her friends were in danger and she couldn’t move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her friends were in danger and she hadn’t even woken up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d yet to finish the fight when she ran out of </span>
  <span>strength to keep her eyes open. She turned her attention inward.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mother, why is this happening to me</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why did my powers fail me two years ago?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>You cannot sense it? ‘Twas the Wicked God’s influence that sundered your magical core. That night you crossed a bridge that cannot be uncrossed.</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If that’s true, your power—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>—would cause great damage to your body.</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pain comes as it will.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>...Your resolve is great, O Ice Queen. As you will it, so let it be done.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>At her companions alarmed yells, she opened her eyes to find herself hovering mid air in a nebula of light and water crystals. Fractals of bold color emanated from her as the ice melted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo moved to catch her but it was unnecessary—she descended slowly and gracefully, brimming with power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could tell that she hadn’t truly recovered, however, it was more than enough to continue as she had, provided she made sure to follow Larikush’s plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry for worrying you all,” she said, smiling away their concerns as best she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another clan secret?” asked Larikush, somewhat tartly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggled. “I guess I know which grandfather Kalas got it from~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is no laughing matter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let the giggles peter off and returned his angered stare with a stoic one. When she was sure that he understood that she was taking the situation seriously, she continued, “This conversation isn’t over, I know, but we have to catch up to Kalas. If Ayme and Folon are here, Giacomo might be too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One would hope the commander would have more important matters than personally hunting down a single emigrant,” he grumbled, nonetheless looking to Savyna for answers, “Will we make it to Opu before noon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Xelha a moment to recall that Opu was a village in eastern Anuenue known for having a splendid waterwheel, a true marvel of the modern world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time she could remember, Savyna gave them a small, teasing smile and trotted off into a sea of growth. Though within seconds she had disappeared from sight completely, they nearly bumped into her mere paces from where Xelha had lain. She parted the veil of vines to reveal a red cliffside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No—the stone itself was ashen. It was the foliage: red lilies and burgundy succulents, umber lichen and warm palm fronds. And there, amongst the veritable tapestry of colors, twinkled earthly stars: the soft candlelight from doorways carved directly into the cliff, as well as the sun reflecting off the waterfall’s spray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made their way down a path hidden in the craggy slope. It almost felt like a tour through a terraced garden. Aside from the lush vegetation that, having caught the cool mists rising from the falls, traced dewy trails across her overheated skin, the ground was a marvel in and of itself; never before had she seen such rock: almost cubist in nature, yet clearly not carved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was dark in color and shaped like pillars, almost as if the island itself was a bed of petrified trees from which grew their hallowed protector. While she knew of similar formations that were supposedly found in Alfard, the images she'd been shown were more akin to the trails left by fingers dragging down clay. With a single glance at the architecture that Anuenuans would have happened upon all that time ago, she could understand more clearly why they would choose to embrace that blueprint when there were much easier dwellings to make.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually stepping foot into Opu was like entering into a fairyland. Between the mist, the scattered rainbows, and light beams tinted by whatever vegetation they happened to pass through, the eyes were tricked into taking in the sights through a filter of dreamy perfection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they weren’t there as tourists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Savyna! In need of supplies for your new summoner?” asked a man so boisterously happy Xelha almost didn’t recognize him as Hehena, the highstrung secretary to the mayor of Opu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a manner of speaking. Has a Miran summoner passed through?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, he had not. However, the clout of the mayor and gratitude of all who knew anything of the incident at the library was not to be underestimated; in less than an hour, a slip of a girl relayed how she had sold some fish to a blue-haired man with a scary smile. As to where he had gone afterwards….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah!” confirmed a sweet-faced boy on the edge of town, “I saw that all-star engineer lady sneak off with some suspicious guy around dawn! Probably up to some canoodling, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation ended rather abruptly with an exasperated brother pulling his oblivious counterpart away, apologizing profusely all the while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d barely had time to catch their breath before they were on the road again, this time with marginally clearer directions:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Down the path to the Diver’s Point, where Opuans enjoyed the sport of fall surfing. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>From there, the only point of interest was the Celestial Tree.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With the much easier form of travel, Savyna pushed them until nightfall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their camp was set in the largest clearing they could find at the base of the falls. No one had the energy to talk. Indeed, Xelha wasn’t sure what they would do in the event of fiends attacking, as the others didn’t so much as jump no matter what sounds came from beyond their vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blur of motion in the sky across from her had Xelha looking up idly. But rather than the expected bird or bat wings, it was plumes of smoke rising into her sightline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo saw it the same time she did, raising the alarm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Celestial Tree—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Horror stirring, she realized he was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tree didn’t appear to be on fire, but there was no denying the whispers of charcoal steadily besmirching the stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group barely had to exchange glances before their camp and silence were broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can we possibly get there in time?” asked Guillo, wings valiantly trying to clear the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could—” began Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not!” Larikush snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia turned a beseeching gaze upon him. “But what of our dear Kalas? We can’t leave him in danger when we have the means….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That will always be the case,” he argued back, panting like a dog in a summer drought, “We can’t keep allowing Xelha to sacrifice her health every time our journey hits a snag!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha put on a burst of speed and whirled around to face him. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> choice to make.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw tightened to the point of snapping, but he had no refute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not so of Savyna, who announced her displeasure with a series of loud, piercing whistles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slowed to a stop and tried again, waving them into stillness as soon as her hand wasn’t otherwise occupied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo took a breath. “What is it you seek to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unsettling rumble echoed from above, no doubt carried by the wind through the jagged canyons of the falls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We wait,” said Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a testament to their sheer weariness that no one could muster even a token protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A pet?” asked Melodia, head cocked to better listen to the rapidly approaching enigma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed dryly. “Don’t say that in front of Cid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cid?” asked Xelha. A realization forcibly wriggled past her wishful denial. “You don’t mean….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The monstrous, amalgamous automaton, Calcabrina, landed a short distance away with enough force to knock them all flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t decide if she should be amused or horrified by the doll head that rolled past her, dislodged by the impact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna climbed atop its proffered hand. “She’s in rough shape. We’ll have to make this count.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took the unspoken invitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With little to do but rest and wait, Xelha was free to examine the massive doll’s workings more closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calcabrina, as it turned out, wasn’t formed of reassembled parts of disparate dolls. The wood they were made of was apparently alive and quick-growing, repairing the dolls themselves as well as forming a carapace over them. Where the shells met, they bonded and grew as one, much like severed fruit branches could join with foreign trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cid was truly a marvelous engineer to have constructed such an inspired creature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand on her arm drew her attention back to their guide. “Rest while you can.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Xelha never managed to fall asleep—the ride was too jerky for that—but she nonetheless felt worlds better by the time they reached the tree. She helped shake the others into alertness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While ordinarily she would be in awe of one of the oldest beings alive, her attention was drawn to flashes of light high within its branches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was less than arduous to locate their wayward summoner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“L-Lady Xelha!” gasped a little girl, whom they met outside of a strange opening in the trunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long moment, Xelha wondered how she knew her name. Then she recognized a feature or two, now rosy with health. “Mayfee?! What are you doing here?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could answer, Melodia was scolding, “Mayfee, dear, what did I say about looking for trouble?” Arms akimbo and lips pouted in vexation, she could pass for her older sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know!” the girl sobbed, picking herself off the ground, “But I’m a Keeper! If I don’t—” She choked on the sob and rubbed her eyes vigorously with her wrist. “If I don’t….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia tutted, though she laid a gentle hand upon Mayfee’s head to soften her tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squatting beside the distraught trainee, Guillo murmured, “When the Keepers chose you to join their ranks, they gained a mighty ally—true-hearted and brave, loyal and noble beyond any bequeathed so of blood.” He wrapped his arms securely around her shuddering, twiglike form. “I beg of you, do not deprive them so of a worthy sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cried even harder, but raised an unsteady arm to point into the hole before them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thank you, truly.” He rose and, as if it were a signal, they ventured into the unknown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice of you to join the party!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More amused than she really ought to be by the sight of her summoner held fast by numerous thick vines, Xelha teased, “I mean, if you’d prefer to fight alone… we would hate to intrude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rude gesture seemed to take all of his strength.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna was there in a flash, shredding the bindings with a single swipe. Before the plantlike fiend could recapture its prey, Larikush and Melodia were on either side of him with energy walls up. It gave Kalas a chance to fly straight up and regroup with them, whipping out a jagged dagger in place of his missing swordstaff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wind is no good. Fire’s good if you can keep it away from the Tree.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just before their shields failed, the mages released them and spun away, leaving the vines to ram themselves into a barrage of blazing feathers, courtesy of Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Cid,” she snapped as she nimbly avoided their death throes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Check the heart!” he called back. He began edging his way towards his favored weapon, which was held a vine, skewered, against the inner trunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no need to look for Savyna’s elusive associate, as the fiend lobbed what appeared to be a flower in their direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If her rush to Kalas’ side was fast, it was nothing compared to Savyna’s catching of Cid. As soon as Cid recognized who’s arms she was in, she twisted and wrapped every limb around her torso, all but kicking off her yukata in the process. They seemed to have a quiet argument—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—that Xelha couldn’t spare attention for, as the fiend had regrown its ‘arms’ and was harassing her companions.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her Majesty would be horrified to see a fiend inside the Celestial Tree.</span>
  </em>
  <span> With that thought in mind, she slipped into a summoning stance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Xelha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Guillo was at her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I back to ‘Miss’? I liked being plain old ‘Xelha’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that is your wish, I shall save the more formal address for when you insist upon sacrificing more than your due share.” Though the pointed words carried a teasing lilt, his body language screamed frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stayed a moment longer to let it sink in, then darted forward to viciously beat the fiend’s core with the body of his machina, bursts of dark energy accompanying each strike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Afraid of the dark, are we?~♥~” Melodia drawled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dodged an incoming tendril, using the momentum to power a series of full-body swings that left chunks of severed plant matter strewn about her. Whispers of magic gathered, smokelike, with each stroke, ‘til at last she stilled her dancing feet and invoked the spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Darkara Flare!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plant flailed in agony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look out!” cried Xelha, too late—they’d all been knocked into various surfaces by the leafy whips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Barriaga Web!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The damage had been done, but the strange spell kept Larikush coherent enough to cast. The white magic was so potent it seemed to singe as much as it did heal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking over her shoulder, Xelha was able to glimpse Mayfee skittering away. She let herself smile, then turned back to the battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo weaving through a veritable jungle, taking shots when able.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush keeping up a steady stream of furious Al Zhani.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cid prancing around as needed, occasionally joining forces with Guillo to overwhelm their foe with projectiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas, looking weary and grungy and just plain annoyed, yet still finding the energy to flit around with his knife. (His staff, it appeared, was still lodged in a now-free vine for the fiend to use as a claw.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna tossing explosives around like festival favors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia, lily-white stained green with the fiend’s lifeblood, single-mindedly butchering its heart in their defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It struck her then—the reason she’d felt such instant comfort in their ragtag group:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a team effort unlike any she’d experienced as the Ice Queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though all present were bound in service to Summoner Kalas, his was not the only life they sought to preserve. Every member was treated with equal respect to the sanctity of their existence. Laughter, teasing, food, frustrations—they’d settled so easily into a pattern of sharing them with no regard to background. It would be so easy to put aside her duty for awhile and bask in the camaraderie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought was intoxicating.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she mused as she watched the fiend’s death throes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s not to be. But maybe… just for awhile….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft blue glow caught her attention. The source was Kalas, who knelt in prayer before the heart of the fiend; or rather, the fayth that was revealed after it fell away from the wall. As the light grew stronger, she was able to make out some of its features: the robes of an ancient magus and what appeared to be a spiny tail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To behold a summoner’s prayers… is it always like this?” Guillo’s voice was hushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha, not wishing to give away her own lack of experience, simply nodded in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something was happening, but it was hidden behind Kalas’ back and wings. The glow halted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Bͨ̔̓̈͆ͣ̚ē͒̒ͭ̉́̽͂hͩoͤ̾̾̾̔ͩ̈́ͨ̂l̿ͮd̈́ͮ̌̿͑ͨ ͆ͯ͐t̂̆ͭ̓͐ͤ̈́h̒ͤ̈ͬͭ͗̓̈e̐ ͋̈́ͭm͂͊ȇ̅ͧ̌̃r͊̓́ͨc̐ͨ̑̽̅ͮͫ̐̚y̑͆̍̾ ́o͗̓̍̑͐̚f͑̇͂̾ ̇̓ͮ͌ͬͬ̑Mͣå͂̂ͧͣ̚l̔ͫ͌̾̌͐̎͒̍p̍̋̀ͦeͮ̔ͥ͐͋͊͌r͊ͧ͒̔̒͆͌cͣ̏̎̌i̚o̔ͥ͋̆̓.ͮͫ̈́.ͮ.̈́̌ͪ.̏ͧ</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Malpercio?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aloud she cried, “Kalas, you can’t trust this fayth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, he was already accepting his new aeon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turned around, he muttered with an eyeroll, “Can’t believe I missed your nagging.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Compartmentalizing the giddy butterflies—</span>
  <em>
    <span>he missed me!</span>
  </em>
  <span>—she closed the distance between them. “Malpercio is—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—an evil god, yeah, yeah, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She breathed deeply to brace herself for the cruelty she was about to show.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fee! Don’t leave me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Kalas? Why is it so dark…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s another name for Sin!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 10/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 3/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. In Which Going Home Means the Salt of the Earth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Kalas breathed out, wiping the slime off his brow, yet still hadn’t bought himself enough time to think up a response. Honestly, it was something he’d struggled to reconcile with his plans. In the end he’d decided it fitting to turn Sin on itself.</p><p>At last, he sighed, “Look, I’m tired, you’re tired, we’re all tired. Can we table this for, I don’t know, a week?”</p><p>Xelha hesitated, then nodded firmly. “You’re right. These past two have been quite the challenge.”</p><p>“Tell me about it,” he groaned, shooting her a grin, “What’s this rumor I heard about rubbing shoulders with royalty?”</p><p>“Nothing that will get you in the money~” She smirked back.</p><p>Xelha <em> smirked </em>.</p><p><em> What did I miss? </em> he wondered, staring at her with something approaching awe.</p><p>She turned and called over her shoulder, “I thought you wanted to rest before we talk.” Then she was sashaying out of the Shrine of Wood.</p><p>He blinked. “That’s new.”</p><p>“Is it?” asked Guillo, “I have always found Xelha to have a certain mischievous streak.”</p><p>“Huh.” Clearly he had some reevaluating to do.</p><p>His grandpapa’s hand landed on his shoulder. “I thought I lost you.” To Kalas’ guilty pleasure, his voice was choked, eyes starry.</p><p>“Come on, Papa, you know I’m like a grungy gil,” he laughed. Under the amused gaze of the others, he chose to ignore the slight throatiness of his tone. “Loosen up before you break all your teeth.”</p><p>As if out of spite, the jaw tightened further. “Don’t lecture me on medicine, boy.”</p><p>Kalas sighed and submitted to the incoming embrace.</p><p>In his ear, Papa whispered, “I’m sorry for bringing up your past. We don’t have to talk about it now.”</p><p>In response, Kalas squeezed tighter.</p><p>“Doctor, I think you’re embarrassing the poor dear~♥~” Melodia simpered.</p><p>In an instant, Kalas had let go. Not because he was embarrassed—he was, but in a warm, fuzzy sort of way—but so Melodia wouldn’t get the wrong idea about his allegiances.</p><p>Past her stood Lady Death, watching him as always. “Speaking of grungy gil,” he grumbled.</p><p>He was surprised when his words got a reaction, even more so that it came from Guillo.</p><p>“Lady Death has been… instrumental to our reunion,” he said. His tone was difficult to parse, and would probably remain so even were he to remove his hood.</p><p>Like the mention of her ‘honey-hubby’ was enough to summon her, Lolo was bounding over to hoist the most feared assassin in living memory into a bridal carry. “Been hearing your old handle left and right these days.” Rather than fear, she had an undercurrent of desire in her voice.</p><p><em> Lo-Cid’s type is reformed baddies. That’s more than I ever needed to know about their love life </em>. The scene came to mind vividly and without warning:</p><p><em> “I </em> love <em> me a babe in uniform,” moaned his head-Lolo, “How’s about </em> Lady <em> Death gives me a </em> little <em> death.” </em></p><p>It was then he resolved to call his old foe by her given name, if only to never again have to picture the two amid military roleplay coitus.</p><p>Savyna quirked lips and brow. “Old acquaintances will do that.”</p><p>“Rather mild way of putting it,” said Papa dryly.</p><p>Guillo turned his gaze downward. “Such strange times we live in.”</p><p>“And only getting stranger,” she replied, sending a meaningful glance Kalas’ way.</p><p><em> Does she know? </em> His heart stopped.</p><p>Playing it off with a careless shrug, he whined, “I make a pact with <em> one </em> evil god….” Seeing his papa less than amused, he stressed, “An aeon guarded by a fiend that <em> name-dropped </em> an evil god.”</p><p>Lolo gave an uncertain chuckle. “You, uh, sure the pilgrim life is for you?”</p><p>As for Melodia, she had no computations about giggling her head off. “Our Kalas is unfit for few things like he is the life of a holy man!”</p><p>“If that’s how you feel, how about you back Xelha?” His sardonicism earned him a look of playful affront.</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of robbing the world of such a sweet girl~♥~”</p><p>From outside, Xelha’s voice came tinkling in. “Don’t tease him so much.” Except he could hear the laughter straining to come out.</p><p>“Oho!” exclaimed Lolo, winking at him as she passed with her armload of death incarnate, “Now he’s embarrassed for real!”</p><p>“Look at that blush~” Melodia agreed.</p><p>Ignoring the cherubic hellspawn, he retorted, “Like I’m taking <em> your </em> thoughts on romance seriously, Lo-Cid.”</p><p>Guillo, the bastard, had apparently grown a teasing bone in his stiff-necked body, as he commented, “Romance, you say.” </p><p>Clearly he <em> needed </em> a full-body cover if that was his best shot at playing innocent.</p><p>Despite—or perhaps because of—them getting the wrong idea, he looked to his grandpapa for help.</p><p>With a serene puff of his pipe and an exceptionally mild tone, he said, “As I recall, you did not, in fact, elope with Lady Melodia—”</p><p>“Papa!” ‘Scandalized’ was too mild a descriptor.</p><p>As if never interrupted, he continued, “—so I don’t have a problem giving my blessing to a lovely woman like Xelha, if she’ll have you.”</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>“Unless, of course, there’s any other young gentlefolk who I don’t know about.”</p><p>“Why did I miss you?”</p><p>“Because Georg can’t cook for shit.”</p><p>“<em> Papa! </em>”</p><p>Chortling, he put his pipe back in his mouth and followed the obnoxiously happy couple outside. “Ah, you set up the tea!”</p><p>For a man who never dropped his dignified parade stride, Guillo all but tripped over himself to join them. “If I may, I would like ginger tonight!”</p><p>He could almost see the scene: a midnight picnic easing the tension that had grown nonstop for the past weeks. Tea and cookies, starlit lullabies, then a comfortably exhausted pile of limbs to drift off into the warm night. The bond between comrades.</p><p>Without turning around, he could feel Melodia’s hand outstretched in expectation.</p><p>As promised, he drew the End Magnus from an inner pocket in his robes. “Any reason you led them here?” </p><p>A flash of light as she took it, snuffed out again in an instant. “The Al Fhard is an expert tracker.”</p><p>“And the girl?”</p><p>“You couldn’t very well ask her wiser sisters to break the seal.” She turned to stand in profile to him, though her eyes never left his.</p><p>He didn’t overly care for the endangerment of a carefree child. <em> Then again </em> , he thought grimly, <em> she chose this. She’s not some innocent kid caught up in everything; she’s a player, and if she doesn’t step up her game, that’s her problem. </em></p><p>Newly resolved, he settled himself next to Melodia as she began to scry by the pool beneath the fayth. First, she called forth a claw-legged bowl—a miniature of her cauldron back on Mira—and filled it with the spring water. Then the remaining three mugwort leaves: two to represent the unclaimed End Magnus, the third to be consumed to show the way.</p><p>In the dim light of the tree, he could see the billowing red cloud shape itself into a prism of shifting faces. Melodia, as always, seemed to have a deeper understanding of the images, for a malevolent smile slid slowly across her face.</p><p>“Of course,” she purred, “All this time he thought to make a fool of us.” An eye lazily flicked back to meet his question, burning like the setting sun in the relative darkness. “Bo will be found in the catacombs ‘neath the duchy’s heart.”</p><p>A heartbeat later, the odd mood had passed and she was packing away her gear.</p><p>“Ah!” she exclaimed theatrically loud, “There it is!” </p><p>It seemed their cover story would be that she’d been helping him find his staff.</p><p>He was surprised to see Xelha waiting with a second cup of tea.</p><p>“I wasn’t sure what kind you liked,” she said by way of explanation, ducking her head a little.</p><hr/><p>He awoke the next morning to the padding of small, bare feet bustling around the campsite. </p><p>It was Mayfee. She scuttled over to their Keeper-approved fire with a ‘kettle’—really a repurposed helmet from the emergency magnus pile—filled with dew from the leaves. The last few steps proving too much for her, she let her wings propel her forward. With a relieved sigh, she not-so-gently set it down to heat up.</p><p>As she was bending over to adjust some form of leaf-bound breakfast, he caught sight of it.</p><p>“Your wing…!”</p><p>She nearly overbalanced into the fire. “I didn’t realize you were awake! Did you sleep alright?”</p><p>With a parchment-like rustle, her wings were once again hidden from the physical eye. But he knew he hadn’t imagined it.</p><p>“Come on, kid, you saw mine, right?” Then again, she’d had the sense to leave the fighting to the rest of them, so it was possible she hadn’t.</p><p>And so he called his own out: the proof of his grandfather’s devotion and the embodiment of ill fortune.</p><p>Her eyes were fit to pop out of her head. “You too?!”</p><p>At his encouragement—<em> not goading </em>, he told his head-Melodia—she shyly let her colors fly. They were patterned much like her clothing, a pair of striped yellow swallowtails. Perfect but for the lower right wing.</p><p>Or rather, the chunk missing from it.</p><p>“I was almost eaten by a Holoholo chick when I was three,” she explained, hands worrying at the hems of her sleeves, “Grandma said she had to pray to an angel to save my life. What about you?”</p><p>“Sorry,” he laughed, “I don’t have a badass story like that. I was born like this, and Gramps built my winglet for me.”</p><p>She regarded him with the solemnity of a divine judge. “I think your wings are really badass too.”</p><p>This time he laughed for real. “You’re something else, kiddo.” Then he ruffled her hair and made himself useful in preparing breakfast.</p><p>The journey to return Mayfee to Opu was taken at a more leisurely pace than either groups’ adventures reaching the Celestial Tree, and not just because they couldn’t exactly surf <em> up </em> the falls (no matter what Lolo insisted to the contrary). With frequent breaks, a larger party, and time to spare on proper meals and rest (<span>and study</span>), it took them almost a week to deliver her back to her worried grandmother.</p><p>At the insistence of a town official, they settled for the night in a luxurious suite normally reserved for the queen herself. The man saw himself away, hands wringing and quaking with a nervous energy that was exhausting to witness, though not before fawning over everyone not named ‘Guillo’.</p><p>When at last they were alone, Kalas draped himself over a divan and asked, “So, what was that about?”</p><p>Guillo seemed about to answer when Savyna raised a stilling hand. “Why didn’t you wait in Komo Mai?”</p><p>“You’re kidding, right?” he groaned, “Holoholo’s annoying enough without having to backtrack. No way was I going to go through it three times!”</p><p>His grandpapa looked ready to rethink his stance on corporal punishment. “Even so, it was reckless of you to pursue an aeon without your guardians! <em> Especially </em>,” he stressed, lips pursed, “when you’re after a dark aeon.”</p><p>“Huh? What are you talking about?” Despite the exasperated countenances surrounding him, he genuinely hadn’t the slightest clue what he meant.</p><p>
  <em> Dark aeons…? I guess he’s talking about Malperciac aeons…. Pretty overblown name for them though. </em>
</p><p>“Kalas!”</p><p>Xelha, of all people, was angry. He supposed it made sense; she was the one who seemed to understand the most about what was going on.</p><p>“Why go after that aeon? Queen Corellia was very accommodating about granting us access to Pixie—I’m sure she would’ve let you make a pact as well!”</p><p>“Hey, you got Pixie?” he asked, impressed, “Way to go, Xelha!”</p><p>“This is serious!”</p><p><em> So am I </em> , he thought, blindsided by how sincere he was. <em> I’ve been hanging out with Lo-Cid too much—I’m getting too mushy. Not to mention losing my touch! </em></p><p>Regardless, he had to reply. “What’s the point of having two summoners with the same aeons? Besides, summoners have been fighting Sin with the same-old-same-old for a thousand years.”</p><p>No one had any arguments, though the more uptight of the bunch were probably too aghast at his slightly-more-heretical-than-usual comments.</p><p>So he continued, “There comes a time when you’ve tried the same thing over and over again and you have to admit to yourself it’s not working. You’d have to be stupid not to try out other ideas!”</p><p>“<em> And getting involved with an evil god isn’t stupid?! </em>” As she spoke, Xelha swung her arms back, hands curled into fists. Fists that nearly knocked over a vase of bright red flowers. Once she’d righted it, she sighed, anger evaporating, “I just… don’t want you getting in over your head, Kalas. I’m your guardian. Let me protect you.”</p><p>He didn’t know how to respond, so he muttered something noncommittal and turned back to Savyna. By Yevon’s grace, Lady Death and her keen eye had somehow become the lesser threat. “I won’t run off on my own again, okay? But you guys need to trust me a little too.”</p><p>Xelha and Papa looked stricken.</p><p>“My most earnest apologies if I gave any other impression!” Guillo apologized quickly.</p><p>“It’s fine, whatever,” said Kalas, more to cut off the conversation before it became more awkward than it already was, “So Xelha got Pixie, Savyna found you guys, and at some point you rendezvoused with the Opu mayor’s lackey in a graveyard?”</p><p>“The Ancient Library of Magic,” Xelha corrected absently, “After the <em> Goldoba </em> attacked—”</p><p>“Wait, what? Giacomo was here?”</p><p>“Ayme and Folon were, at least?” She looked to Guillo, who confirmed that he hadn’t seen the third. “The <em> Goldoba </em> was chasing the crew of the <em> Yesterbean </em>. We tried to help, but we ran ourselves into the ground in the process.”</p><p>“Man, and you guys were getting on <em> my </em> case for overdoing it!”</p><p>A series of glances passed between the lot of them.</p><p>Cheeks tinted slightly, Melodia continued, “We were forced to take shelter at the library, where we uncovered a plot by imperial forces. Savyna rescued us and led the way to the capital, where we expected to find <em> you </em> waiting.”</p><p>Lolo jumped into the conversation, literally and figuratively. “Kalas wanted to go after that… ‘dark aeon’, was it? Weird name—” Just when he thought he’d have to nudge her back on track, she interrupted herself. “—Anyways! Mayfee was there and we were going to wait ‘til morning to go inside….” </p><p>She mock-glared at him… or maybe it was a real glare. It was hard to tell sometimes.</p><p>He merely shrugged and said, “Couldn’t sleep, and I handled the last aeon’s guardian fine on my own.” He fixed a what-can-you-do smile onto his face, hopefully covering up his dismay at his slip of the tongue.</p><p>Sighing, Guillo paced forward from his place hovering at the door, settling onto a pile of cushions. “It may not be my place to make this request, but please, in the future, let us know if there are any aeons you wish to seek out. I am sure I speak for everyone in that it would give us all peace of mind to know explicitly how we may best support you.”</p><p>“I already said I wouldn’t pull that crap again, didn’t I?” Annoyance simmered at having to repeat himself.</p><p>Across the room, Larikush’s jaw was chewing his disapproval like cud. However, he didn’t scold. “Regardless, we should take advantage of the roof over our head while we can. I can’t guarantee we’ll have access to such luxuries for the foreseeable future.”</p><p>“Yeah, you know Holoholo!” Lolo chirped.</p><p>“I’d rather not,” replied Kalas flatly.</p><p>Xelha and Melodia were given the bed, Kalas kept the divan, Guillo and Larikush shared the cushion pile, and the lovebirds settled on the attached balcony.</p><hr/><p>It took longer to travel between Opu and the hut than it had before, what with the larger group, and in that time Kalas learned a few key things:</p><p>The first was that Xelha was undergoing physical therapy with three different coaches. He’d noticed the sessions as soon as they began travelling together again, but had assumed that it was the same networking that Xelha did constantly. It was only when he caught the doctor checking up on her shoulder that he put two and two together.</p><p>Then there was the frankly ludicrous degree of intrigue and conspiring. Aside from his partnership with Melodia, the trio of Xelha, Larikush, and Guillo were less than subtle in their spying on him. He was pretty sure that it was just them being motherhens, though Guillo was, as always, an enigma. To say nothing of the vacillating tension between him and Savyna—one minute he had a cautious respect for her, the next he seemed to expect an attack.</p><p>Not unlike Kalas himself, who was under Savyna’s constant scrutiny. Presumably on account of the ‘dark aeon’ business, though he imagined not being where they agreed to meet up had something to do with it. And the fact that he’d introduced his associate under a false name. And his general distrust of her. In fact, the more thought he gave it, the more he counted himself lucky that she was giving him any amount of freedom. Married life was making her soft, and he couldn’t thank Lo-Cid enough for it.</p><p>Apparently the <em> Mindeer </em> was broken beyond repair. They’d given permission for the <em> Yesterbean </em>’s crew to cannibalize whatever parts were needed to get their own ship up and running again. He didn’t really care, so long as Gibari didn’t charge them for it.</p><p>The biggest revelation was what became of Calca and Brina.</p><p>“Oh,” said Xelha with the tone of one realizing they forgot to water the plant.</p><p>“Oh,” he agreed, staring at the sea of twitching, malfunctioning dolls coating every surface of the hut.</p><p>Lolo immediately set about returning them to her workshop—or rather, workshop<em> s </em>, as, in addition to the one inside the hut, she had expansive storage under the roots and even a small chamber within the trunk itself.</p><p>(“For the… unusual cases,” Savyna explained, which turned out to be the very old, the experimental, and various attempts to reverse-engineer humanoid paramachina. </p><p>Kalas had had to ask his grandpapa what they were, since difficulty in transportation, high maintenance costs, and the small matter of a <em> paramachina rebellion </em> had lead to a fall in popularity before he was born.)</p><p>They left Lolo to her repairs and pressed onwards, luckily taking a mere two days to reach the edge of the jungle. Their travels were faster once they’d cleared the oppressive heat and clawing vegetation, so much so they were able to stay the night in the gutted remains of the <em> Mindeer </em>.</p><p>“I thought that was you!” boomed a deep yet exuberant voice, waking Kalas earlier than he’d liked.</p><p>“Tik…? Is that you?” yawned Xelha, returning the strange man’s hug.</p><p>As it happened, the newly introduced Wacho and Tik had returned to wait for them in order to offer a lift to whatever island they were looking to pilgrimage to next. They stayed just long enough to break bread and quarrel, then were off to make the final repairs.</p><hr/><p>“My poor feet~!” Melodia sighed, settling onto the ground the moment they entered Anuenue Port.</p><p>“My poor ears,” he shot back, more out of habit than any whining on her part. He was more than ready to sit and rest for awhile.</p><p>Of course, that was when the unmistakable retch of someone trying and failing to hold back tears drifted down from the outcrop of rock and tree that ran parallel to the main road.</p><p>With the bleeding hearts already set on investigating the muted sobs, Kalas sighed and trudged along after them. With each cry, he felt a spike of irritation. Though it may just as well have been the headache plaguing him since he woke up.</p><p>“—<em> failed </em> her, <em> failed </em> my queen!”</p><p>“<span>Thkk, kythk, thkuuz esu.</span>”</p><p>His accursed curiosity was piqued. <em> ‘Failed [her] queen’... has to be Corellia. But that was definitely Al Zhani I just heard. </em></p><p>Ahead of him, Xelha was gasping, “Was that…?”</p><p>“It certainly seems so,” agreed Larikush.</p><p><em> They’ve met </em> , he realized. There was no denying the renewed swiftness to their scramble up the lush cliffside. <em> ...The Library. Must be one of the summoners. ‘Ray’ or something? </em></p><p>They broke through the brush to the tree limb beyond. There, at the narrowest point, was a blue-robed blonde woman in the arms of a raven-haired Al Zhani.</p><p>“Odette! Rheong!” cried Xelha, arriving first.</p><p>The one in blue, now revealed as the character he’d dubbed ‘Xelha Groupie’ in his head, froze up. “M-My Lady.” Odette’s watery gasp was muffled against Rheong’s bare collar as they pulled her in tighter.</p><p>With a carefully blank face, her ‘friend’ explained, “Odette was unable to find guardians and despairs of completing the pilgrimage without them.”</p><p>The girl—was she any older than Fee would’ve been?—peeled herself away and wailed, “I’ve come so far, but no liner will take me without guardians! They all say I’m wasting my life!”</p><p>Seeing Xelha about to reply, Kalas sighed as loud as he could. “The<em> Yesterbean </em> isn’t ours, so the decision is Wacho’s.”</p><p>“Tik’s as well,” added Guillo.</p><p>
  <em> Tik doesn’t decide shit. </em>
</p><p>She rubbed at her eyes. “You really think they’d let us…?”</p><p>“There’s no guarantee you’ll find guardians on Mira.” To his surprise, it was Xelha playing devil’s advocate.</p><p>With his attention focused on the pair of blondes, he was able to see another thing they had in common: fashion. Closer inspection lent credence to the burgeoning suspicion that this Odette was from the same mysterious culture.</p><p><em> Xelha doesn’t want her to continue. </em> That much was obvious. <em> Maybe it’s her age? Whatever. If I can get to her while Xelha’s distracted, it should be easy to get her to spill some of those clan secrets. </em></p><p>Grinning, Kalas said, “Oh, she’ll find guardians alright—you can find anything you want on Mira.”</p><hr/><p>“Tik, <em> I swear </em> if you’ve touched my herboreum again—oh, hey, Rheong, Odette.” Wacho didn’t even seem surprised that they’d invited two more along, focused instead on his prized ship. And what a prize it was.</p><p>The <em> Yesterbean </em> was a disaster. There was no other way to describe it.</p><p>His engineering knowledge, haphazard as it was, was more than enough to tell at a glance that their ship’s continued buoyancy had more to do with providence than mechanical integrity. He spied at least five vastly different metals that had been welded together with no regard to sense or natural laws. Gramps would weep if he saw it. He himself was tempted to.</p><p>Even the organic elements were mishmash. Rather than be hidden within the body of the ship, the <em> Yesterbean </em>’s swim bladder—or, he realized with a vague sense of revulsion, the multiple flotation organs stitched together like a patchwork intestine—was looped around the hull with netting. The netting itself was ratty, full of sections that had frayed straight through. These had been mended with what appeared to be old clothes twisted into rope.</p><p>As if that weren’t enough, the accompanying skybeast was old. How old, he couldn’t guess, but its scales were dull and peeling. Clumps blew off even in the idle breeze to dust dock workers. To their credit, they seemed desensitized to it. Or maybe they didn’t notice.</p><p>“You can’t be serious,” said Kalas, deadpan in the knowledge that yes, they almost certainly were.</p><p>“Keep an open mind,” Papa chided, though a violent tic was pulsing in the corner of his right eye.</p><p>Ever the diplomat, Guillo clasped Wacho’s shoulder and said, “The repair work done to the <em> Yesterbean </em> is remarkable; it is as if it was never broken at all! I had not realized you were so skilled a shipwright, Guardian Wacho.”</p><p><em> ‘Remarkable’, huh? </em> Kalas glanced dubiously over the revenant of a ship. <em> Well, one thing about it is. </em></p><p>Apparently Wacho agreed with him, because he stared suspiciously at Guillo before muttering his compulsory gratitude.</p><p>Guillo, of course, just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Withdrawing his hand, he lowered it to trace around the rim of his goggles. “I… feel compelled to explain myself to you, if you would listen.”</p><p>“Guillo….” Papa sounded urgent.</p><p>He narrowed his eyes and let them dart to each face. There was tension from all sides, but close observation allowed him to pick out the ‘alliances’.</p><p>His papa had a carefully neutral expression, which, in and of itself, was indication that he was on Team Guillo. Xelha, too, judging by the pity in her downturned face.</p><p>Savyna and Odette seemed to be on the fence. Or maybe it was his relative lack of familiarity with their tics. His gut told him that Odette was leaning towards a more favorable view while Savyna was still feeling out where he stood on her threat scale. As for Melodia, she had a smile so plastered on it could only be out of utter frustration.</p><p><em> Whatever’s going on, she’s not in on it </em> , he guessed <em> , Must have to do with that trial they glossed over during storytime. </em></p><p>His hypothesis was supported by Rheong’s reaction, which was to gather in on themself and glare from under their hood. They were definitely an Anti-Guillo, probably more vehemently than Wacho. Not that he expected much else from the Al Zhani, considering the many, many, many intracontinental conflicts in the past century or so.</p><p>The moment was broken when Wacho, sighing aggressively, turned back to his ship. “Whatever, it’s not like we behaved the best either. Just—just watch what you do, alright? They don’t deserve their name dragged through the mud.”</p><p><em> Wacho knows another Guillo? </em> The revelation had a memory wriggle itself to the surface of his mind. <em> Come to think of it, Lolo knew a Guillo too, from twenty years ago... too much of a coincidence. </em></p><p>Twenty years would put the meeting right before the most recent Calm. If Guillo #2 was hanging out on Anuenue <em> and </em> Hassaleh…</p><p><em> ...they were involved in a pilgrimage. They could even be the namesake for the Guillo I know. </em> He wouldn’t even care, except that the name kept popping up in increasingly dramatic places. <em> Balancoire has libraries that rival Anuenue’s; if I can’t dig anything up on the way, I can always do some research in the Pilgrimage Archives. </em></p><p>Conveniently, the duke had erected the archives in dedication to High Summoner Sagi. Or Sagi had put it in his will or something that all summoners and guardians should be remembered for their sacrifices. If information was anywhere, it would have to be there.</p><p>His eyes flicked over to Melodia. She had extensive knowledge of both past pilgrimages and the archives, both of which could expedite his line of questioning. On the other hand, she didn’t seem to know what was going on either. Not to mention that, when she thought he wasn’t looking, she got almost as weird about Guillo as she did Summoner ‘Witch From a Fairytale Land’ Xelha. Better not to involve her, at least until he knew her stakes in whatever Guillo subplot was happening under his nose.</p><p>“What do you think, Kalas?”</p><p>“That makes sense,” he replied, aware in a vague sense that the group had been awkwardly discussing a tour of the <em> Yesterbean </em> while he’d been off in his head.</p><p>What <em> didn’t </em> make sense was inviting them onboard in the first place—once inside, past the deceptively bulky exterior, the space was barely enough for two.</p><p><em> So much for talking to Odette </em> , he groused, squeezing onto a sad looking couch shoved into the corner. <span>A slender book</span> had fallen between the moth-eaten cushions, to his ass' woe. With Wacho and Tik on the outcropping that passed for deck and helm, all four summoners were granted the hypothetical comfort that was the double sectional, a feat only accomplished on account of the two youngest being borderline malnourished.</p><p>The guardians settled on the floor. None seemed happy to be practically in each other’s laps. Or, as it happened, fully sprawled over each other when the <em> Yesterbean </em> lurched into the skies.</p><p>“So, about that tour?” he quipped.</p><p>It was a testament to the rock-bottom mood that no one could be bothered to call him out on it.</p><p>An especially rough bit of turbulence sent Odette flying. The angle might’ve broken her neck if Kalas hadn’t scooped her up midair and let his bulk keep them on the couch.</p><p>“Th-thank you, Lord Kalas!” she gasped. She clung tightly to his torso and, in a whisper that barely carried over the ship protesting its continued existence, told him, “When we get a chance, we need to speak in private.”</p><p>He nodded. Apparently there wasn’t a single person on board that <em> wasn’t </em> involved in some sort of conspiracy. It was almost refreshing after a week in the company of Lolo and later Mayfee.</p><p>They had barely cleared Anuenue’s barrier when Wacho began cursing in the name of every known aeon, a sign that the subsequent jerky flight was more than just the ship’s limitations (or, for that matter, Wacho’s limited ability to pilot it).</p><p>“<em>I</em><em>xion, hear my prayers!” </em> screamed Tik. </p><p>Electricity had barely begun to crackle before the aeon let out a whinny of defeat.</p><p>Kalas huffed out his aggravation, dumped Odette into Xelha’s care, and all but stomped to the entryway. “If it’s the <em> Goldoba </em> again, I swear—” He froze.</p><p>
  <em> “Kalas! Wait!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Leave me alone!” </em>
</p><p>A tight double helix.</p><p>
  <em> “You’re not even giving him a chance!” </em>
</p><p><em> “So now you’re on </em> his <em> side?!” </em></p><p>A paddle-like tail.</p><p>
  <em> “Kalas, we’re all going to die someday….” </em>
</p><p><em> “What does </em> that <em> have to do with anything?!” </em></p><p>A real <em> whale </em> of a fiend.</p><p>
  <em> “Kalas…? Why is it so dark…?” </em>
</p><p>It wasn’t ‘til he felt his grandpapa’s presence at his side that he realized he was at the railing of the deck, grasping it with bone-white knuckles. A flash of red revealed Savyna settling opposite. He could see her great fantail flexing through the gossamer screen of his papa’s wings.</p><p>Or at least he would, if all but his most peripheral awareness wasn’t focused on the single eye astride their ship.</p><p>It was enormous—practically the size of the <em> Mindeer’ </em>s hold!—and scintillating various shades of orange and red. The slit pupil focused on him with a beastly, malevolent intelligence.</p><p>“<em>SIN </em>!”</p><p>His roar was swallowed by that of his far louder foe. The sound cleaved away the rest of the universe, paring it down to the space between two eyes: a rusted planet and its frozen moon.</p><p>Rust red.</p><p>Blood red.</p><p>Red.</p><p>Red.</p><p>Red.</p><p>He saw red.</p><p>Gold.</p><p>
  <em> Pa-schwing! </em>
</p><p>Sin erupted with blood and roars.</p><p>As if freed from a spell, his surroundings came back to him. The first thing he noticed was the hand on his chest—Guillo’s hand, evidently having pushed him back to stand between certain death and his summoner. In his left, grip steady, was the sound shock gun.</p><p>Years of planning, and suddenly Fee’s murderer showed up? “Ha.”</p><p>Guillo took a half step to the side. No doubt questioning if his charge was going insane.</p><p>“Heheh.” It felt <em> good </em> to have his swordstaff in hand.</p><p>“Summoner Kalas, what are you—”</p><p>“Now you’ll pay!” he cried, wings flaring to take off.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>Before he could leap, Guillo had tackled him to the floor. Despite Kalas’ advantage of build and muscle, the highly trained whatever-he-was kept him pinned.</p><p>“Let go of me!”</p><p>“Are you truly willing to give your life for this foolhardy venture?!” Guillo interrupted himself to call over his shoulder, “No, Doctor, it is for the best that you reclaim the navigation.” In his distraction, his grip loosened enough for Kalas to break free—</p><p>—only for tiny little Odette to launch herself at his legs.</p><p>“Lady Xelha has sacrificed so much for you! Knock it off!” She scowled so fiercely it almost wasn’t laughable.</p><p>Where there was an Odette, Rheong wasn’t far behind. They barked, “Good work, Odette!” and released a stream of fire over the trio’s heads.</p><p>When he managed to sit upright, he was greeted by Rheong looming above, a ball of light roiling between their raised arms. No, not light—molten earth, compacting further and further upon itself.</p><p>“Mages, to me!” they cried, “<em> <span>SUZUETOBO THZTUOS</span> </em> !”</p><p>All thoughts of pursuing vengeance fled as the orb of lava, rivalling Sin’s eye in size, was blasted towards the beast.</p><p>Without missing a beat, Xelha added extra momentum with a gust of wind. Odette was quick to throw a spout of fire to the mix and Melodia a contagion to infuse the rock.</p><p>
  <b> <em>BOOM!</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <strong>À́ͦ̉ͯAͨÀ̌̿ͮA͛ͬͥ̽̓̽̆A̋͆ͫ̿ͬA̅A̅̉̚A̔̐͌̂ͣ̐ͩẢ̉ͧ͐̓Aͬ̆̑̑̔ͯA̋̈́ͤͩ͑ͪͫH͊H̀̈ͧ͐ͩ͌H͊̍ͬͯ̋͋̋H̅̉̽̈̽͛̆H͊H͆͗̾̏̿̚H͒̏̒ͥH!͐̇̐</strong>
</p><p>The <em> Yesterbean </em> tumbled. Upwards? Sideways? He couldn’t tell.</p><p>Everything was a blurry mess of motion.</p><p>Everyone was screaming.</p><p>Lights? Lights shooting?</p><p>Everyone was screaming.</p><p>
  <em> SCHWING-TING! SCHWING-TING! </em>
</p><p>Guillo? No, Xelha?</p><p>Ray-moo fur tickled the back of his neck.</p><p>
  <em> SCHWING-TING! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>       SCHWING-TING! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              SCHWING-TING </em>
</p><p>
  <em>                   SCHWING-TING </em>
</p><p>
  <em>                        SCHWING-TING </em>
</p><p>“Hah!”</p><p>“Hep!”     </p><p>“No! No, no, NO!”          </p><p>
  <em> BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. </em>
</p><p>Ray-moo fur, ray-moo fur, r-a-y-m-o-o f-u-rrrr…………… <em>SCHWING-TING!</em></p><p>“Back off—!” “I’ll finish you—!” “—no, no, no—!”</p><p>
  <strong>Oͫ̀̔͑Uͤ̒ͥ̍R̋̏͐ ̈́͆ͮ̓͊̈́̐Ĉ̐L̑̄͗ͪͬ̔̓Ã̓Ì̾M͛̈ͧ̋ ̄ͣI̾Sͬ͗ ̓͑̊ͯ̄̓T̉̌̌̀ͮR̓ͭ̋ͮU͋̀̓͗̔̾Eͨͫͤ̋ͮ̾ͫ.̒ͨ͒ O͌͊̇̀̓̂ͥUͤ̍ͮͤ̈Rͣ ͤ̑̋C̓͆́̾͐L͑͆̉̾ȦĪM̉͛̔ͣ̆ ͐̿̽I͒S͌̃ͨ̇̍͊ͯ ̏ͧ̑Ť͛H͐ͩ̋̋Eͤ OͨN͗ͯ̎LYͧͯ͑̓ͥ ̌̚T͌Rͨͦ̌́͐̉Uͫ͗ͥͨTH̊͐ͭ̃̅.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em> BOOM. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                           SCHWING-TING! </em>
</p><p>S-w-e-a-t  r-o-l-l-i-n-g  s-l-o-w-l-y…………………………….<em> CRASH! </em></p><p>“Kalas, we need—!”</p><p>“Kalas, why aren’t you—!”      </p><p>“Kalas, Kalas, focus! You must—!”           </p><p>“Kalas!”                </p><p>“<em> Kalas!”                              </em></p><p>
  <em> “KALAS!”                                                           </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Kalas, why is it so dark…?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sweatfurboomcrashtingschwingnononokalasboomkalasaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhwoodgrainwoodgrain </em>
</p><p>Hands grabbing.</p><p>His face? His face.</p><p>He was biting something. Something red.</p><p>No, that was blood. His blood.</p><p>
  <em> Fee’s blood. </em>
</p><p>No. No, a hand.</p><p>His hand.</p><p>His hands on his face?</p><p>No, his hands <em> in </em>his face. His hands? His hand…’s?</p><p>“Kalas, you are safe. Papa is with you and you are safe.”</p><p>Papa. <em> Papa’s </em> hands on his face. Over his ears.</p><p>Papa. Papa leaning over him. Over his eyes.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>He was breathing too hard.</p><p>“That’s it, use your exercises. You’re doing well, my boy.”</p><p>He tasted copper. Spat out his hand. Spat out his blood. Stared at it. Watched it shake.</p><p>He felt Papa’s white magic crawling over him and grasped onto the sensation, letting it pull him back to reality.</p><p>Tired.</p><p>“Wh… what’s going on…?” he slurred. </p><p>The blur of colors… had they made it to the Trail of Souls already…?</p><p>“...A bit of turbulence,” answered Papa.</p><p>Kalas laughed a bit. “You’re lying.”</p><p>“...I’m sorry.”</p><p>“S’okay.”</p><p>“It’s not.”</p><p>“Ha. Love you, Papa.”</p><p>Papa held him tight. “I love you too, Kalas.” He was crying.</p><p>Kalas hugged back. “We’re… all going to die someday, aren’t we?” He couldn’t explain it, but he felt like he finally understood why Fee said it.</p><p>A tighter squeeze. “Nevermind that.”</p><p>As Kalas came more back to himself, he was able to process the overwhelming stimuli into a relatively coherent picture. Enough so that he willingly let his mind float to a degree.</p><p>Tapping his grandpapa to signal him to let go, he took in the odd surroundings. It hadn’t entirely been his imagination after all—they were surrounded on all sides by eddies of pink and purple.</p><p>“We’re not in the Trail of Souls.”</p><p>Jaw clench. “No. No, we’re not.”</p><p>“Huh.” He watched Shiva reinforce a melting panel of ice in the makeshift shield around them. “I always wondered what the Taintclouds were like.”</p><p>“The ice was more sustainable than creating an updraft,” explained Larikush, leading Kalas back inside, “We’ll need to save our energy for impact.”</p><p>He obediently sat on the couch beside Rheong, who was in a deep, deep slumber. </p><p>“My turn?” he asked, indicating the other summoner.</p><p>Larikush smiled lovingly and kissed his forehead. “It’s been a trying day, boy. Rest while it’s safe.”</p><p>“Don’t have to tell me twice.”</p><hr/><p>Time didn’t seem to exist in the Taintclouds. Obviously it passed, but with the way the poison swallowed and reflected the sun, it was near impossible to accurately judge its position.</p><p>Papa, by whatever feat of mathematics his engineering background gave him, was able to track the distance they’d fallen. When he deemed them close enough to the ground, he organized the mages into something of a rowing crew, complete with a song to keep them in time. Bursts of magic slowed the descent of the ruined ship, aided by makeshift ‘wings’: skeletal frames made of cannibalized parts and cloth scraps.</p><p>When they could see the Earth—the <em> Earth </em>, unseen by skyfolk for uncountable generations!—he had them move out onto the deck (and across the roof, as the deck was somehow smaller than the hold).</p><p>“<em> NOW! </em>”</p><p>A multitude of wings unfurled and carried their owners into a steady glide. Guillo, Odette, and Savyna (with their beetle, paper crane, and peacock wings respectively) were sandwiched between stronger flyers, and Rheong, having had their wings plucked as was commonly the case for imperial citizens, had to be carried outright.</p><p>“I just fixed that!” Wacho wailed at the sound of the <em> Yesterbean </em> crashing into the mountains below. His well-loved ship slid down the face and into a deep, seemingly bottomless chasm. “Dammit, I <em> just </em> fixed that!”</p><p>“Wacho,” said Tik. A hint of urgency colored his voice.</p><p>“I mean it! That hunk of junk sunk faster than Sheraton!”</p><p>He cleared his throat and tried again. “Speaking of….”</p><p>Whatever he’d noticed, Wacho soon caught onto as well, cursing quietly to himself. “There’s no way—!”</p><p><em> ‘Speaking of’? Don’t tell me…. </em> </p><p>Surveying what he could see of the landscape, Kalas was sure that he knew what the dramatic revelation would be. “Hey, Papa, if, say, an island fell from the Sky, it’d probably rearrange the geography a bit, right?”</p><p>Gasps showed the others had caught on.</p><p>“...Normally I would expect that such an event would result in a crater,” Larikush began slowly, “However, the residual energy that kept Hassaleh afloat for so long may have allowed it to settle more gently. Or perhaps it flattened a mountain range that was already there.”</p><p>Whatever the case, the missing island had clearly made its mark. The mountain range was jagged, as if someone had taken a war hammer to a floorboard. And zig-zagging every which way like lightning scars was a system of chasms.</p><p>More immediately interesting, however, was a tower peeking out of the highest peak. A remarkably intact tower, given the violence of its surroundings.</p><p>Savyna noticed too. “It seems that we may not have to rely on speculation.”</p><p>“Survivors?” guessed Xelha.</p><p>Melodia hummed in agreement. “Or the fabled Children of the Earth. It’s been said that the duchy of Mira has enjoyed contact with them every so often.”</p><p>“For real?” gasped Tik, though whether at the living legend or the sight of his childhood home was unclear.</p><p>“Is that common knowledge on Mira?” asked Rheong. They gazed suspiciously at Melodia, who gave an elegant shrug.</p><p>To Kalas’ disappointment, no one could muster the interest to truly grill Melodia with the history unfolding before them.</p><p>In no time at all, they were on the roof of the tower, stretching out sore muscles.</p><p>“Tik! Look, Tik!” Wacho was pointing excitedly down at the far face of the structure. “It’s… it’s the Briarclock! But it’s <em> new! </em>”</p><p>The two flitted excitedly about the old memories made new, the others following at a more sedate pace. As they descended a set of stairs into a space not unlike the Endmost Bethel, they noted the beautiful tilework that ran like an elaborate embroidered hem to every wall, pillar, and window. Every now and then, a flash of red or green would whiz by their level.</p><p>“I can see why it’s called the Briarclock,” Guillo commented when they were able to gaze at it from the outside. </p><p>Though care had obviously been put into keeping the clocktower from being overrun, thorny vines with clumps of blue and pink flowers clearly were a theme throughout the town.</p><p>Savyna leaned in close to a sticky-looking bloom. “Sheraton was known for the thornflower. Aside from providing natural protection, the nectar was a popular sweetener in recipes.” She looked at it in consideration, then harvested a number of samples into a magnus.</p><p>Almost as soon as she’d done so, she tensed up, feathers sprouting like the raised hackles of a dog.</p><p>“Oh dear!” cried the masked local, dropping her basket of dried beans. It spilled over, and this time she swore for real, stooping to gather them up before they could roll between stones or under the sharp vines.</p><p>Guillo was quick to fall to his knees. “Allow me!”</p><p>Once Xelha and Larikush joined him, Kalas sighed and accepted that they were all going to get roped in.</p><p>“Ma’am,” began Guillo, holding up a thornflower vine so that Odette could get at a small heap that had managed to wedge itself in, “Although we have no right to beg a favor, having startled you so, might I trouble you to grant us information about this beautiful town?”</p><p>She looked at him strangely but nonetheless replied, “We stand now in Cujam, that ancient city from whence came the gods to challenge Malpercio. She returned to us from the heavens most recently, and we’ve been making restorations ever since, we have.”</p><p>“You’ve done very well,” marvelled Xelha, sliding a hand along the Briarclock and its brightly colored trim.</p><p>“Her name is Shabbatai, a wonder we feared beyond our skill to repair,” the woman continued, indicating the tower, “The greatest work of Tall Mizim, foremost architect of the Age of the Kiln. Lucky we are that she was built so strong, that much remained intact.”</p><p>So she said, but Kalas could pick out the line where old met new, and the former was far less represented than the latter. “Seems like a lot of effort for a ghost town.”</p><p>Her tone was as prickly as the thorns hooking into her skirt. “Malpercio laid waste to the Earth, he did, and we Children are sworn to make anew where he laid his mischief. To the north thrives Alu, heartenbrace revived from extinction. The west Mezarim, the Four-Tiered City. And my honor is to reestablish growth in Cujam, as well as birth the Earth-Nestled City of Dithutlwa in the deepest of the Alhayyah Trenches.</p><p>“‘Tis hard work, it is, reviving the turtleflowers now that the fields are instead the Nusakan Thornpeaks, as the surviving skyfolk so named. The Peaks rippled across Athawr, making hinterlands of her all the way to Albali. The Hamal region, she struggles, aye, but not near so much as Duhr.</p><p>“The bravest attend to Suhail, who suffers without her Ocean to feed and bathe her. Old Naos and her port lie in shambles and New Naos feeds on fiend flesh. Aye, hard work it is, but deserve not we the scorn of those who fled.” Her lecture ended with a fierce glare, though she had little choice in the matter, given the snarling face of her mask.</p><p>“Alright, alright,” he muttered, “Don’t go having a calf.”</p><p>Larikush’s jaw clicked shut. “Forgive my grandson. He is a fool.”</p><p>“Whatever.” Kalas crossed his arms and looked away, meeting Melodia’s eyes.</p><p>
  <em> So, Boss, what now? </em>
</p><p>She inclined her head ever-so-slightly. “Well,” she said, clapping her hands together in delight, “I, for one, think this is nothing less than fate!” Her head cocked charmingly and she smiled. “After all, we survived what few before us have and delivered dear friends to their long lost home~♥~”</p><p>A lazy, half-lidded side glance translated: <em> This trip was unplanned but not displeasing. </em></p><p>“Whatever,” he muttered again, this time quieter. He couldn’t turn around or stalk off without drawing the wrong kind of attention, so he resigned himself to staring down a blue flower. Bitterness rushed through him like strong coffee.</p><p><em> The Skyfolk fled? Give me a break! </em> We’re <em> the ones who’ve been dying to Sin all this time! What about </em> our <em> cities? We barely rebuild before the Calm ends, and you’re complaining about a thousand year Calm? </em></p><p>“Kalas?” Xelha had shifted his way. </p><p>Her expression was strange. Pride… determination? Sorrow? He could pinpoint individual emotions with ease, but stringing them together into a cohesive whole? He could <em> smell </em> the missing context. And it irked him.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Stop it!”</p><p>“Stop what?”</p><p>She glared. “That tone! You don’t even know what I’m going to say and you’re already mad at me!” Though she whispered, it was obvious everyone heard.</p><p>He flushed. To everyone he said, “Sorry. Just woke up and I haven’t eaten in awhile. I’ll… go do that.” He faked a small yawn and walked as quickly as he could while still pretending to be half-asleep.</p><p>He needed to be alone.</p><hr/><p>“Are those chocobos?”</p><p>Xelha had followed him, he knew, but he hadn’t expected her to wait ‘til he was finished eating to speak up.</p><p>She strode over to the birds, stroking one’s beak. “I’ve never seen them in this color.”</p><p>Neither had he. The only chocobos in the Sky were the black chocobos of Mira. These were a tawny golden color and much taller than their counterparts. Broader and thick-boned too, though with very small wings. Vestigial, he suspected, unless they had swim bladders like most skybeasts.</p><p>“Back home,” he started, rising from his table—really a crate he’d found—to join her on its other side, “they say that there used to be all kinds of chocobos. But when the islands rose, only the black chocobos could fly well enough to survive. Guess they were right.”</p><p>
  <em> “Look, it’s the halfie! Hiding in the stables again, huh?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Bet you anything they’re related! It’d explain a lot!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Heh, the color’s right but it can’t fly!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s the breeding—a runt like it should’ve been drowned at birth!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s not a black—it’s a blue! Why didn’t widdle Kawas die out with the west of the bwues~?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Aw, you made it mad! Wark, wark, wark~!” </em>
</p><p>The old anger surged as fresh as it had ever been. Overwhelmed by the loathing, humiliation, choking, he picked up a nearby comb and began controlled strokes down the underside of its chin.</p><p>Across from him, Xelha ran her fingers through the downy chest plumage. “You like animals a lot, don’t you?”</p><p><em> Better than people anyway </em>, he agreed. After a moment, he repeated it aloud, adding, “There was a stable in Balancoire that gave me chump change to take them to run and graze outside. And before that, we had caplin—me and Gramps and Papa and—” He clenched his teeth.</p><p>“And Fee,” she finished softly.</p><p>
  <em> Did Papa tell her? </em>
</p><p>“...People are complicated. Animals? You always know where they stand.”</p><p>Xelha gave a laugh more like a sigh. “Most people would say humans are easier because they can talk.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, he snorted, “Yeah, talk shit.”</p><p>She laughed again, a more genuine, deep-belly laugh. When she finished, she wiped her eyes and leaned sideways to grin at him. “Well? Don’t keep a girl waiting~”</p><p>“Lady Xelha!” he gasped in mock affront, “Gossip does not <em> behoove </em> a gentlewoman!”</p><p>“I guess I’m not the good girl you think I am.” As if to prove her point, she snuck the chocobo a handful of high-quality greens.</p><p>Not able to help himself, Kalas laughed and exclaimed, “Careful who you say that to—some creeps would take it the wrong way!”</p><p>“I’m not <em> that </em> innocent,” she insisted, but neither of them could keep a straight face.</p><p>They settled into a companionable silence for some time, spoiling rotten each chocobo in turn. Xelha, while gentle, seemed to have limited experience with chocobo care.</p><p>After about an hour, Melodia sauntered in. “Kalas—oh! Hello, Xelha. Getting to know each other~?”</p><p>Although he knew they were being baited, he couldn’t help but fall into the same stammering as Xelha. The carefree, relaxed atmosphere—when had he let down his guard?—was shattered in an instant. And while his muscles already protested the renewed tension, he was grateful for the reminder to stay vigilant.</p><p>“Are we needed back with the others?” asked Xelha, putting down her comb (to the immense displeasure of the one-eyed Peace Warker, who headbutted her with a croaky squawk).</p><p>Melodia shook her head. “Not as such. Since Kalas has such a good hand with them, Zeda gave us permission to borrow the chocobos. I came to help choose our mounts.”</p><p>He nodded slowly in acknowledgment and surveyed the stable. Of the fifteen available, most seemed too thick-boned to be very fast. Their temperaments, at least, were mellow enough to be trusted with untrained riders. He guessed they were used mainly as draft animals.</p><p>Instead of picking right away, he asked, “Where are we going?”</p><p>Melodia walked to the table-crate and laid out a map. They followed her finger as it trekked down the <em> Nusakan Thornpeaks </em> leftward into the <em> Athawr Hinterlands </em> . It wormed its way through a disk labelled <em> Albali Sandhollow </em> and followed a road heavily marked with infrastructural notes. Passing <em> Zosma Tower, Algorab, </em> and the ominously named <em> Garden of Death </em> , it landed on <em> Gemma </em>.</p><p>“According to Zeda, all anyone has been able to talk about is a talented wizard known as The Great Mizuti. If anyone can help us return to Mira, it’s them.”</p><p>“Long journey for a long shot,” he pointed out, but he was already deep in thought about chocobo compatibility, “So they left all the work to us?”</p><p>She laughed. “No, silly, everyone else is either gathering provisions or borrowing masks~”</p><p>Apparently, though they originally served to filter out toxins leftover from the War of the Gods, it had become a custom to wear the ornate wooden masks regardless of the air quality. While their odd clothing choices could be shrugged off as a fad or regional difference, no Child of the Earth would be caught dead with an uncovered face.</p><p>A sentiment not shared by Kalas when handed his mask.</p><p>It was dominated by a very large beak or nose, which, like a misshapen carrot, jutted out an inch or two before taking an obtuse downward bend. It narrowed only at the very tip, which was level with the ‘chin’ of a set of interlocking teeth. Aside from the glossy black disks of the eyes, it had little other detail.</p><p>“Hey, anyone want to—” As soon as he caught sight of the alternatives, he quickly changed his mind about swapping.</p><p>Xelha’s was more akin to a helmet than a mask, albeit one with a beard. It was meticulously shaped like a conch shell with a tangle of kelp and clams draped over the tail end. It was a mess of pinks, yellows, browns, and greens. Except for the ‘inner’ section, which had been painted black, most likely to emphasize the bulbous, quarter-lidded, electric green eyes peering out.</p><p>Melodia’s was like what one might see at a festival or masquerade. The basic domino shape was embellished by a gold and black knot motif with several false stops. The carvings made their labyrinthine way into a truncated hennet, the orange cloth patterned with speckles like a tiger lily. He was surprised her neck could support it at all, even with the neck brace.</p><p>Savyna, appropriately, was a six-horned, tusked demon, scowling out from under a pair of bushy eyebrows over a protruding nose. The face itself was a rainbow of blues, while the horns, tusks, and eyes were red and orange.</p><p>Guillo’s was by far the creepiest. It was a caplin head, stylized far beyond what any of the others wore. The eyes were yellow and unusually small—or rather, they were actually eye-sized, merely looking small in relation to the other masks, as well as a nose that took up a third of its width. More than the eyes, it was the mouth that made him feel uneasy: a wide, wide grin with too many teeth and spiralling corners.</p><p>Papa seemed to have gotten it the worst. His was the only human design, which only made the engorged features more off-putting. An unpainted, half-lidded stare bored unblinkingly into him. It had massive eyebrows, a curl of hair resembling a stiff peak of meringue, and a highly pronounced upper lip—an unmatched lip, as, instead of a bottom, a pair of front teeth jutted out. The fact that all these features combined into a nonetheless neutral expression inspired a vague sense of dread.</p><p>He fixed his own on in hopes of not having to look at the others any longer.</p><p>A strange sensation spread over every nook and cranny of his face. When he’d adjusted, it was as if the wood had sunken into his flesh, though a quick series of pats proved that untrue. Though the mask could not move as his face did, he was able to see and smell and hear with the same clarity as ever.</p><p>Kalas shook his head to try and clear the weird feeling.</p><p>“Don’t rattle your brain, boy; you’ll get used to it in time.” His grandpapa’s voice had an echoey quality to it.</p><p>“How do I look~?” Melodia gave a twirl as she spoke.</p><p>“Like the floor of a fishing boat,” he retorted automatically, “Where’s everyone else? If they’re not ready to go, I’m leaving them behind.”</p><p>“That’s fine.” It was Rheong, who was apparently opting to carve their own.</p><p>Odette emerged from the Briarclock sans her summoner’s garb. She’d found a sunflower mask and paired it with a sensible Hassalite herding tunic. “We decided to travel to Mezarim to study,” she said apologetically, looking to Xelha as if for permission, “I… I think if there’s a way, any way at all, to beat Sin for good…. Well, I’ve made up my mind to find it!”</p><p>Xelha, seeming oddly relieved to hear her duckling was staying on the big, bad Earth, murmured, “You have my blessing.” To Rheong she said, “Thank you for going with her.”</p><p>They looked away, embarrassed. “If Hassaleh returned to where it belonged, it’s possible that the lost clans of Alfard did as well.” They closed their eyes, then met Xelha’s with renewed determination. “Alfard needs to know what happened to her people, and I want to relearn the culture that the Al Alfard stole from us.”</p><p>Kalas shrugged and signalled Chocolina and Chocolatte, broodmates hatched from the same egg, to their soon-to-be riders.</p><p>“You guys are staying too?” chirped Tik, poking his head out from behind a bush, “Come visit sometime! We’re going to help rebuild our home!”</p><p>Once all parties had wished each other well, those looking to return to the Sky set off on the road down the mountain.</p><p>Kalas lead the way on the sturdy flock leader, Notta Kwehter, followed by Xelha on the grizzled Peace Warker. Melodia and Guillo were next, on gallant Mr. Feathers and plucky Boco, with Papa and Savyna taking up the rear on sweet-tempered Chocobonobo and stately Fruminous Ode.</p><p>Though the Thornpeaks lived up to their name, the restoration of Cujam had been well-planned, resulting in a wide road of rough tile with plenty of rest stops. The trip was made all the faster by the revelation that the wings of the yellow chocobo, while not suited for flying, could still be used for gliding. It barely took a day and a half to reach the base.</p><p>The Athawr Hinterlands weren’t quite as smooth, as the main road lead to hub city Mezarim. But what infrastructure there was to be found was enough to allow for relatively smooth travel. At one point they even encountered a troupe of travelling musicians, who regaled them with an oral history they hoped to have recorded in Mezarim.</p><p>Albali was among the worst experiences Kalas had ever had. Though a signpost cheerfully assured them that the once-infamous sandworms had died out at the time of the War of the Gods, just seeing the size of the tunnels they left behind had Kalas ready to take the long way around. Worse was when they got lost in the twisting pathways for a fortnight. They ran out of provisions and had to rely on Savyna’s wilderness skills to eat and find water. Even Guillo lost his cool, spurring Boco off a cliff and accidentally rediscovering the main trail in the process.</p><p>They made a brief stop in Algorab to stock up on food. Kalas preferred not to remember that venture, as there was nothing about the village that didn’t depress him.</p><p>The dismal town was barely out of mind when Savyna called a halt.</p><p>“Seriously?” he whined, “It’d be nice if we got there sometime within the next month.”</p><p>“Listen.”</p><p>Without the heavy sound of the chocobos footsteps to obscure it, they could faintly make out singing in the near distance.</p><p>
  <em> ♪ Millennia unseen, millenia untold ♪ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ♪ Millennia under evil’s hold ♪ </em>
</p><p>“‘Evil’s hold’, huh?” He didn’t have to look to know that Xelha had gotten that intense look of hers.</p><p>Savyna clicked her mount back into motion.</p><p>
  <em> ♪ Wings of White unfurled, Wings of White revealed ♪ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ♪ Wings of White the shadows yield ♪ </em>
</p><p>As far as Kalas could tell, there were four verses to the song, which was repeated over and over and over again. Each repetition would swallow different words, making it difficult to understand what they were about.</p><p>
  <em> ♪ O bitter blood, given form ♪ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ♪ Gold, diamond dust ado~or~or~orned ♪ </em>
</p><p>The singing became louder and louder until they made it to Gemma’s gates. No citizens were out and about, though that was likely due to the unceasing loop of music that saturated the entire village.</p><p>
  <em> ♪ Swaying on the waves, the~e flowing waves ♪ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ♪ How far shall we go toni~i~i~ight? ♪ </em>
</p><p>There were multiple voices harmonizing, however, they all sounded like the same person.</p><p>“That building seems to be the source,” said Guillo, pointing to the highest tier.</p><p>
  <em> ♪ O~o Mighty Song, scat~ter long ♪ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ♪ A flower fresh beco~o~o~ome ♪ </em>
</p><p>Kalas noticed Xelha lagging behind on the stairs. “You okay, Xelha?”</p><p>“This song…,” she frowned, “...Nevermind, it’s probably nothing.”</p><p><em> So in other words, it </em> is <em> something. </em></p><p>
  <em> ♪ Two souls swaying on a sea of dreams, praying ♪ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ♪ Travelling off to kingdom come! ♪ </em>
</p><p>“You seem unwell,” he heard Savyna say to Melodia. Her tone held all the sympathy of a disturbed serpent.</p><p>“I’m fine, thank you,” she replied, “Merely the exertion.”</p><p><em> Convenient it’s only hitting you now </em> . <em> Something about this song has you in a cold sweat </em>.</p><p>
  <em> ♪ Ta la di da di daa~ ♪ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ♪ Taa la di daaa…. ♪ </em>
</p><p>The song ended just as Kalas’ hand landed on the door handle.</p><p>It didn’t start again.</p><p>He glanced back at his equally unnerved companions.</p><p>“Be you entering now?”</p><p>He lurched away from the door in surprise. The voice sounded young and old simultaneously, accented in a way none of the other Children of the Earth had been.</p><p>Cautiously he answered, “...By any chance, are you the Great Mizuti?”</p><p>Either the Earth Child was laughing or they were choking on water. “The Great Mizuti be pleased that you have come, Children of the Sky!”</p><p>“How did you know we came from the Sky?” gasped Guillo, joining Kalas.</p><p>“The Great Mizuti be all-knowing~✭!” they readily proclaimed, “Most-knowing. Much-knowing.”</p><p>“Which is it?” asked Savyna.</p><p>“You be doubting the Great Mizuti?!”</p><p>“Oh no, of course not!” said Xelha placatingly, reaching for the door, “We’ve heard many wondrous things about the Great Mizuti—it’s why we’re here! May we come inside?—to meet you properly.”</p><p>Their egotistical new ‘friend’ seemed to accept the flattery as apology enough. In a shockingly chipper tone, they replied, “The Sky Children be unable to enter—it be folly for them to challenge the seal caging the Great Mizuti.”</p><p>“A seal… caging you?” She paused, then lurched back much as Kalas had. “This magic… it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard of! I don’t know if we can break it on our own!”</p><p>They laughed again. “Not to worry! If Sky Children be trapped outside, The Great Mizuti simply be joining them.”</p><p>“How are you going to manage that?” Kalas snorted, “You heard Xelha—there’s no way you’re going to be able to bust out on your own! What, do you plan on gnawing your way through?”</p><p>“Kalas!” He didn’t need to look to see Xelha’s frustration.</p><p>Not that it mattered, as the trapped Earth Child seemed to find it as funny as he did. “Kalas! You be forgetting one wee thing—the Great Mizuti be just that: great. Unstoppable. Invincible~✭!”</p><p>And before anyone could reply, a surge of energy erupted from behind the wall, their only warning to dive out of the way before the door was thrown like a discus past the village limits. Kalas could feel the frayed seams of the spell fizzle into nothing. Impressive, considering that magic, despite his status as a summoner, was not his forte.</p><p>“Easy as pie for The Great Mizuti!”</p><p>The figure of their soon-to-be-benefactor pranced out of their prison without ever touching the ground. They cut as colorful a figure as all the Earth Children did—save for dreary Algorab—with a starry blue skirt, burgundy blouse, and a large tongue rolling out of their red mask. Atop the latter sat a carved wooden chocochick, which spun idly in the breeze.</p><p>Try as he might, Kalas couldn’t sense their wings. But nor could he sense their absence, that impression of nothingness that afflicted most Al Fhard. It was almost as if the wings were there but hidden behind a crack in dimensions. Whatever the case, it made his innards crawl.</p><p>He glanced at Melodia in a likely fruitless attempt to gauge her mood at the turn of events. To his surprise, her face was utterly unguarded in contempt, revulsion, and fury—so much so he edged his way to her side and rapped his knuckles against the glass of her shield.</p><p>Her head shot around, eyes wild, and captured his hand. While she was able to marshall herself back into the guise of guileless ingenue, she channeled the entirety of her foul mood into digging her claws into his finger webbing.</p><p>Across from him, Papa was staring with narrowed eyes at the newcomer. At first Kalas was worried that he’d picked up on some aggression he himself had not, but relaxed once he saw him quickly scribble some notes into a small, leather-bound journal. Back when they all lived together, he and Gramps would jot down observations they made regarding the other’s field, that their spouse might peruse and hypothesize over later.</p><p>Meaning that it wasn’t just Kalas and Melodia who found Mizuti disconcerting.</p><p>Apparently catching on that they wouldn’t be done gawking anytime soon, Mizuti did an impatient dance. “There be no time for dilly-dallies now—we be in great hurry to the Garden of Death!”</p><p>“Um,” Guillo gulped, raising an arm in wishy-washy objection, “For what purpose, if I may ask?”</p><p>“A Sacred Treasure be there: the Sword of the Heavens,” they replied, floating to lead the way back down the steps.</p><p>Everyone followed, but too late; all across the village, residents were spilling out of buildings, calling for Mizuti to return to their holding cell.</p><p>It occurred to him that they may have just aided in releasing a criminal.</p><p>“So, Mizuti—” he started.</p><p>“—<em> The Great </em> Mizuti.”</p><p>“...Great Mizuti, are we about to face down torches and pitchforks?”</p><p>“Eh? Why be Kalas worried about farmers?”</p><p>He gave up and ran.</p><hr/><p>Once they had successfully outpaced what seemed to be the entire population of Gemma—easy enough as soon as they retrieved the chocobos waiting obediently by the gate—they were able to continue at a more forgiving speed. One that allowed for introductions and some much-needed exposition from both sides.</p><p>“The Great Mizuti had a dream, a dream about the Sky!” they explained, weaving through the air as if it were water, “The ancient wizards showed the Great Mizuti the danger the Children of the Sky will face, but Mother and Father be stubborn. They think the Great Mizuti be experiencing nightmares!” Mizuti huffed at the injustice.</p><p>“So you were under house arrest to keep you out of trouble.” Savyna, as always, cut straight to the point.</p><p>He had a feeling that curtness would come in handy with the garishly-dressed headache he could already hear insisting that he was in need of yet another guardian. He could picture the Earth Child singing <em> “The Great Mizuti be just what the doctor ordered~✭” </em>as his head-Larikush nodded along emphatically.</p><p>The real Mizuti was deeply affronted by her bluntness. “The Great Mizuti, trouble? Never! Who be spreading such lies?!”</p><p>“What Savyna means,” Papa interjected, “is that we don’t quite understand your intentions in this matter. Capable though you may be, the fate of the world shouldn’t rest on the shoulders of those who have barely begun to live.”</p><p>They hummed quizzically. “Larikush be confused. The Great Mizuti be strongest Earth Child. The Wicked God be strongest foe. It be obvious that the Great Mizuti be challenging him.”</p><p>“No one is doubting your strength, Great Mizuti. We merely do not believe you should be burdened with the Sin of we Skyfolk.” As he spoke, Guillo swatted away a cloud of gnats that had gathered around his exposed forearms.</p><p>“Exactly! Precisely! That be why the Great Mizuti be accompanying you!” they cried, blissfully missing the point, “The Sword of the Heavens be here in Duhr, the Ocean Mirror be given to the Ice Queen, the Earth Pendant be with the thief from the Sky.” They ticked each item off on their fingers. “The Great Mizuti not be sure, but if the Mighty Godcraft be destroying Sin, the Sacred Treasures be destroying the End Magnus.” They ran out of fingers to count on. “Us heroes, we have so much to do!”</p><p>Ice spilled down his spine. <em> This freak knows about the End Magnus? </em></p><p>Unfortunately, Guillo picked right up on it. “End Magnus? As I recall, that is what the Empire was seeking in Diadem—at least, according to Commander Skeed. How is it <em> you </em> are familiar with it?”</p><p>In an instant, Mr. Feathers had pulled up alongside Mizuti and strategically blocked Guillo out of the conversation, courtesy of Melodia’s skilled birdmanship. “What of this ‘godcraft’ you mentioned? It sounds powerful.”</p><p>Before Mizuti could answer either, Xelha was occupying their other side. “I’d like to know more about the Sword of the Heavens. The name sounds familiar, like I heard it when I was very young.”</p><p>“Xelha be nearly there to see it herself!” At this pronouncement, their guide gestured to the party’s left.</p><p>As if for dramatic effect, the wind picked up just as they turned to look, smacking them in the face with the repugnant smell before they even had time to be disgusted by the sight before them.</p><p>“Capella, the Garden of Death,” Mizuti proclaimed, as if anyone would have mistaken it for something living.</p><p>A thick, tar-like mud lazily flowed through a shallow valley, as if the very concept of a river had been twisted. Petrified trees hugged the edge of the flow, posed like souls in the midst of torture. No matter how deeply he peered into Capella, all he could see was the same image on repeat. And the longer he stared, the more he swore he saw faces in the trees, the more the mud appeared to be an oily black snake constructed of gently undulating skeletons.</p><p>He turned away to gag again at the odor.</p><p>“This smell—! I have only encountered its like in the Library of Magic.” Guillo frowned loudly enough to be visible through his cowl. “But somehow….” He trailed off, his unease bleeding into Boco’s body language.</p><p>Xelha was able to put it into words. “The library smelled of decay—new life feeding off of death.” She shivered. “There’s no life here… just sickness… and death....”</p><p>“It be sad, yes? The Earth be poisoned still.” Mizuti bobbed over to the mouth of the ‘river’ and sat cross-legged in the air, hands clasped at their chest as if in prayer.</p><p>The mud beneath them rippled. Then what appeared to be ash was slowly siphoned upwards into a magnus. They were the first skyfolk in history to watch a Child of the Earth at work at their purification task.</p><p>There was no noticeable difference.</p><p>Mizuti uncoiled nearly as slowly as the poison had been drawn from the earth. Shrugging, they grumbled, “See? Even the Great Mizuti be outmatched by Capella. Not by much. Just a small amount. Miniscule. Barely worth mentioning!”</p><p>The chocobos didn’t seem to agree, as all but Peace Warker refused to enter. Melodia, Xelha, and Papa, the slightest of the group, piled onto the chocobo veteran so as not to be swept away, however slowly, by the mud.</p><p>No one was interested in speaking—not even Mizuti, who didn’t have to wade through waist-deep, rancid sludge. Savyna prowled through with an air of grim determination, and he was pretty sure Papa intended to burn his clothes as soon as they emerged. Kalas himself had stripped down to his braies before he entered, and thus got to enjoy the sensation of stringy mayonnaise soaking through his undergarments.</p><p>To add to the misery, a haze developed the further in they ventured. A perfect way for fiends to ambush them, should any ever bother showing up.</p><p>(“Most curious,” mused Mizuti some endless hours into their trudge, “Where be the revenants? The Great Mizuti be coming here many times and they be attentive hosts!”</p><p>“Is it just me, or does Mizuti seem way too disappointed for that to be a joke?” he muttered to the closest person, who happened to be Guillo.</p><p>“Truly, I am not sure I care to know the answer,” he replied, shuddering, “It <em> is </em> curious though. We have had remarkable fortune in avoiding encounters with the undead.”</p><p>He was quick to hiss back, “Don’t jinx it!”)</p><p>He couldn’t for the life of him tell how long they’d made their miserable way before Xelha gasped dramatically and launched herself into the air. Veering to the right, she excitedly bade them follow.</p><p>There, amidst the second most depressing place he’d ever been (Algorab seeing Capella’s ante of rumored revenants and raising it an entire population of those who were only dead on the inside), lay a single glimmering patch of crystal-clear water.</p><p><em> Or is it? </em> he wondered, looking closer. Though he could see the reflection of the small island in its center and the shadow cast by a bridge leading to it, it greater resembled a chunk of sky that had somehow been anchored to the mud. That, or it was water reflecting a sky that was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>Indeed, the play of light and shadow seemed to respond to the pattern of clouds represented on the ‘water’ rather than those cast by the surrounding trees. The shrine that sat atop the island had a shadow on its left side that perfectly corresponded with the dark cloud reflected in the pond. This, despite the uniform dimness of what little light could penetrate both the Taintclouds and Capella’s fog.</p><p><em> This is it </em>.</p><p>He was halfway across the bridge before the others noticed and began calling his name. “What?” he called back, “I’m the only one here who uses swords.”</p><p><em> If there’s any chance that Mizuti’s right about this sword </em> , he thought, remembering the extremity of Melodia’s reaction, <em> there’s no way I can let anyone else get their hands on this. </em></p><p>There it was: a luminescent blade buried in a mossy boulder at the shrine’s center, strings of talismans garlanding every beam holding the ancient structure upright. A pentagonal boardwalk enclosed it, the walls echoing the shape. A conceptual pentagram. He really was in a holy place.</p><p>Kalas braced a foot against the boulder, grasped the glowing hilt, and pulled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 11/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 4/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. In Which We Battle On Loose Boards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seems a bit on the small side,” Papa observed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas lightly toed Mizuti’s small craft. “It’s how you use it, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandfather sighed, but Xelha could see the twitch of a smile trying to sneak out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be great in power… but not in size.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the canoe was, in fact, perfectly sized to the less-than-great-in-stature Mizuti.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how are we going to do this?” he asked, an undercurrent of irritation poking through his bored tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the only one who could steer and power the vessel, Mizuti took the helm. Kalas and Xelha, the two summoners, were high priority, and thus she found herself squirming to find a position that wouldn’t set her face and fantasies aflame. Wedged into the very back was Larikush with a lapful of Melodia, while Savyna and Guillo were forced to lash themselves to the outer sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She used the commotion to surreptitiously attempt to shake loose her problem shoulder. While the Earth had been a welcome reprieve in terms of magic use and physical labor, the extended travel by chocobo had jostled her shoulder so much she’d almost requested Larikush make her a sling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, quit it,” Kalas muttered directly into her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As an electric chill spilled outward from the point of contact, she allowed herself a moment to pretend they were going sledding in Gomeisa.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas would be wearing snow coeurl fur. We’d take a tumble but it wouldn’t matter—we’d have a snowball fight, then return to Kaffaljidhma to crawl out of our wet things and soak in a hot bath. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment passed, and she quashed the daydream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reality was that they were about to get launched through the Taintclouds by a magic fountain in the middle of a cancerite-infested labyrinth. Mizuti assured them that it had been done many times before but, as such a thing had not been attempted in generations, their words were less than comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before anyone had a chance to respond, a powerful jet of water shot them straight up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t enjoy it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she scolded herself as the velocity pushed her backwards into Kalas, like two puzzle pieces clicking together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could feel his warmth and musculature through his robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wondered what she felt like to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t enjoy it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That was made significantly easier when they entered the Taintclouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As no one had wanted to risk accidentally stabbing one another with the edges of their masks, all except Mizuti and the two clinging to the side had chosen to go without. That meant holding their breath as much as possible, with Larikush and Xelha there to provide healing and blow back the poison gas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was, all around, a harrowing ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When at last their flight slowed to the natural buoyancy of the ship, Xelha at first thought they’d become trapped in the Taintclouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Trail of Souls,” Larikush murmured, just loud enough to carry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas’ arms tightened minutely around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Trail of Souls was like a tube of mixed paint, cool reds and warm greens smearing into and replacing each other endlessly. And visible beyond them in oscillating bands was a solid void of blackness. Black beyond the darkest night. Black beyond anything she could imagine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She twisted to look in the opposite direction and saw pulses of light bouncing about like small beads that fell from a height.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas, who had turned with her, leaned to the side to see around Larikush. “The hell is that…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon following their line of sight, Larikush pressed his lips firmly together. “A dogfight. See how cleanly those blasts cut through the backdrop? The Goldoba is here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again?” Kalas whined, “Doesn’t Giacomo have anything else better to do than stalk me everywhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner had he spoken than a fleet of Diademi warships flew overhead, their skybeasts moving with remarkable speed to join the battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would seem not.” Guillo sounded breathless, almost dizzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While I’d rather avoid involvement in an unknown situation,” said Savyna, leaping aboard and gesturing for her more aerodynamic companions to take her place, “it would be in our best interests to relocate to a more stable location.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia, shifting to be a counterweight to Guillo, held up a magnus. “Perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>can be of assistance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her hand was the crest of Diadem given to them by Gibari, the dragoon knight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha, if you would?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, with Xelha providing a focused beam of light and Melodia manipulating the shiny surface of the crest, they managed to send out a distress signal. Alternating rhythms of flashing lights soon caught the attention of a warship, which lowered just far enough for winged skyfolk to leap aboard. Standard issue winglets, after all, were generally only good for short bursts, and left their owner too unsteady to lodge an attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knights, upon seeing what had been used to make the signal, quickly escorted them to a lounge area to await regrouping with the acting general. In the meantime, Larikush laid out paper and  r"&gt;a textbook</span> to the usual overplayed groans.
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Well, well, well,” drawled a playfully gruff voice, “Look who’s crawling back for another ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Gibari.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never told us you were the acting general,” said Kalas, eyeing him more closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Said general shrugged carelessly and plopped himself down on the other side of the desk. “Didn’t think I had to. They don’t let just anyone carry around the royal crest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted. “Then why did you have it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari seemed ready to deflect the question when Melodia gasped, rose, and dipped into an elegant curtsy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was why your name sounded familiar!” she gushed, stepping to the side and sweeping out her arm towards their host, “In the name of Summoner Kalas of Balancoire and his Holy Guardian Retinue, I am humbled to submit myself to the care of His Royal Highness, Prince Consort Gibari Elnath nee Rambari-son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This guy married King Ladekahn?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The prince consort sighed. “Just ‘Gibari’ is fine, Your Grace—besides, the Empire pushed back the wedding date, what with the attack and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Your Grace’?” Xelha echoed, wide-eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here we go</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, crap, were you supposed to be incognito?” asked Gibari.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia smiled wryly and replied, “There’s no help for it now.” She nodded to each of their companions in turn. “Since we’ll all need to introduce ourselves anyway, I suppose I’ll begin. My full name is Melodia Calbren. My grandfather is the Duke of Mira.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anticipating reactions that would keep him amused for weeks, Kalas peeked to the side, only to see a series of wooden masks. Even Xelha, whom he’d expected to be all but falling out of her seat, had slid into a neutral expression uncannily similar to Savyna’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disappointed, Kalas groaned, “Anybody else got some blue blood I should know about? Any runaway princesses? Disgraced aristocrats? Undercover demigods?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be most unlikely,” said Guillo slowly, head turning minutely downward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d have to agree,” said Xelha. She seemed to remember then that they had been in the middle of introductions. “Oh! My apologies, I’m Xelha, one of Kalas’ guardians.” She looked at him expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes but gave the barest nod to Gibari. “My name’s Kalas. Sorry about totaling your ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Larikush, it’s a pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be pleased to make your acquaintance~✭~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Savyna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Guillo. I would like to echo Lady Melodia in expressing our gratitude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari’s smile froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dammit, Guillo, why’d you have to pick a fake name that half the Sky apparently knows?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Guillo’, huh?” He didn’t sound angry like Wacho had, though Kalas wasn’t ruling out that his greater maturity let him hide it better. “You Sagi’s kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, n-no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” He heaved a massive sigh. “Sorry about that. I met the High Summoner way back when, but I lost track of him after—uh, after the pilgrimage. You know.” He scratched his head. “Only person I could think of who’d name their kid that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” squeaked Guillo, sounding queasy, “My... mother… she always told me she had met Lady Milliarde. I imagine she named me for the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’d make sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock—knock—knock-knock-knock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Beckoning a knight to open the door, Gibari said, with the barest hint of exasperation, “Long as we’re introducing people, this is Palolo, Diadem’s acting spymaster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Acting’ being the key word,” sniped the man who stepped through the door, a sarcastic lilt to his voice, “Otherwise I’d have to kill you for giving my real name, and ‘Kahn would never shut up about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spymaster’s annoyance was understandable, given his unusual coloring. It was as if the Al Fhard who captured the king had dallied with Lolo—his attempt to control his vividly red locks resulted in a spray of choppy bangs and a choppier ponytail. Despite clearly being as old or older than Gibari, his face held a boyishness to it, aided by a cavalcade of freckles across all visible skin (which was, admittedly, only his face, upper neck, and parts of his hands and feet). He wore a gi of deep plum, sandals, and a red silken hood, currently bundled around his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of habit, Kalas peered into his eyes to examine the pupil. While at first glance appearing round, the shape was noticeably squished, similar to the horizontal slit of a frog. Then those pupils were boring knowingly into his own, and he looked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palolo handed Gibari a missive from a hidden pocket. It bore the seal of House Calbren.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welp, that’s all the time I’ve got today.” A breeze with no discernible origin began playing with his hair and clothes. “You kids stay out of trouble!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind strengthened, funneled, and imploded, with only a wake of leaves to indicate that someone had occupied the space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo gasped, knuckles flexing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When nothing further happened, Melodia turned to the general. “What does Grandfather have to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari’s easygoing demeanor sunk the further down the scroll he got. “It’s from Peachy. She says his fever’s gotten worse, to the point he’s not even coherent anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…! He was recovering well when I left home!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her credit, Melodia put on a good show of being the concerned grandchild. Or maybe she had a shred of love in her heart that the rest of it could manipulate at will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid Calbren’s been up and down for awhile now. Might help him to know that his granddaughter is safe.” Despite his words, he let the lecture rest at that, flattening the scroll atop his desk and weighing it down with what appeared to be chunks of armor. “‘Course, this puts the knights in a tight spot too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?” asked Xelha, peering over a diagram that took up about half of the missive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was of the battleground they’d just been rescued from. In the middle was Mira. For some reason, some of the surrounding spits of land had been added as well, including meticulously charted drift patterns. The largest of them—the Ship Graveyard it was known, as there was always at least two wrecks there—was surrounded by several imperial dreadnaughts. Diadem’s forces were charted as well, though there was a noticeable lack of Miran vessels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear,” murmured Melodia, tracing a finger over the Ship Graveyard, “They’ve taken the chocobo knights?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari shook his head but his lips tightened grimly. “Not exactly. Whatever they’ve got that lets them detect camouflaged ships hasn’t been able to see past the illusions of these five pseudo-lands.” He tapped the ‘islands’ in turn, ending on the largest. “Problem is, they’re holding Ladekahn hostage here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the chocobo knights wouldn’t be able to break through the imperial line, even with the element of surprise.” In an instant she was no longer Melodia, Kalas’ guardian, but Melodia, heir to the duchy. “Perhaps if we hid an infiltration team behind a rock cluster—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Negative,” Savyna interrupted, strolling into the limelight, “Imperial ships track by heat signature. The only reason they haven’t found the Miran army in these locations is because they’re disguised as areas of volcanic activity.” She pointed to the wavy ‘steam’ lines marking each of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring her, she continued, “It would be better to make use of the local wildlife. I’ve heard that there are a number of aggressive skybeasts in this area.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas laughed out loud until he realized she was serious. “Do you seriously want to ride a gnosis?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Distraction and cover—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—it was rhetorical,” he cut in flatly, “Look, they’re mean sons of bitches who, best case scenario, will drag you into another dimension kicking and screaming.” He scrunched up his nose in distaste. “Plus they look like if an old man’s wrinkled dick grew spider legs. No one wants to ride a gnosis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandpapa sighed. “Putting aside his crass comments, Kalas is right—gnoses can be wearying to defeat if you’re not adequately prepared, and I imagine a battle of that proportion would attract unwanted eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Papa startled when he noticed an oversized mask peeking over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be not understanding—it be obvious the enemy not be a challenge! Godcraft, have we, and aeons mighty, and the Great Mizuti!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swore he saw the exact moment Gibari developed a migraine. “Kid, are you really suggesting we launch a frontal assault on the Empire’s flagship?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti not be puttering about; the Great Mizuti cut straight to the point!” As if to emphasize, they called a pair of vicious toothed chakrams to dance deadly around their body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, Savyna seemed prepared to consider it. Or at least to reach a resolution through their debate. “We approach from below and cripple the vents. A cult of personality centered around a strong commander </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> imperial strategy—once the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> fails, it’s unlikely that another officer will be able to regain control of the fleet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching for a piece of scrap paper and a pen, Papa began rapidly sketching schematics. “While I can’t guarantee perfection, I was involved in the making of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> and can provide modestly accurate blueprints.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naturally, ‘modestly accurate’ meant far above what it implied when the object of comparison was the great Doctor Georg. The ductwork in particular was skillfully rendered, though from what he remembered, Papa’s knowledge of the circulatory system had been the inspiration behind the design.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Gibari’s eyebrows steadily climbed, he didn’t comment on the admitted imperial engineer in their midst. “So, that it then? Quick guerilla strike and let physics handle the rest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One by one, everyone murmured their assent, until it reached Guillo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated. With his head coverings in the way, it was impossible to tell where he was looking, however, Kalas had a feeling he was staring hard at the skychart. Finally:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An expertly crafted battleplan, as expected of you… Savyna. But dealing a blow to the Empire is a secondary purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She eyed him critically. “A strong offensive will make it easier to accomplish our objective.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The risk is too high!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas almost expected to hear a pin drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Savyna’s credit, she merely raised an eyebrow and said, “Explain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His spine went ramrod. “With the ventilation system impaired, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> will quickly overheat, true, but, considering her cramped location as the spearhead of an offensive phalanx, she will almost certainly crash. And while the chocobo stables appear to be a solid structure, in truth they will not be able to withstand being rammed so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The casualties would include many imperials, yes, but I imagine few, if any, chocobo knights would be able to escape. His majesty’s survival would be yet more problematic to ensure. Not only would Mira lose her main attack force, Diadem would suffer greatly in terms of morale as well. And while the Empire would be routed, Alfard refines few resources like she does soldiers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adjusting the map so that both had the best possible view, she asked briskly, “What do you propose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This formation,” he explained, circling the imperial ships with a fingernail, “is designed to hit hard and overwhelm. The supporting aircraft are mainly positioned to provide cover fire that the spearhead may divert all power to offense. As such, they are designed to only defend and attack from one side at a time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He emptied a magnus. It had held gridlined paper and a double-ended pencil—a quarter blue, the rest red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we can contact the chocobo knights, they should be able to take advantage of the weakened defenses,” he muttered, furiously attacking the paper, “However, they will have to board all supporting vessels simultaneously. If the crew realizes what is happening, they will be able to switch paradigms and neutralize that weakness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Impressively fast, he had a functional blueprint of the aircraft he was describing. While it was clear he didn’t have the same kind of experience as Papa, it was probable that he’d been frequently hands-on with them in the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pointed to a series of grooves in the hull, which he identified as places where mobile walls would swing into place to shore up defenses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is easy enough to punch through with magic, provided the angle of one’s attack is optimized.” He helpfully added lines showing the margin of error. “Once inside, there are a few automated defense systems, but none that should give the infiltrators too much of a challenge. Ideally, they would enact a silent takeover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> will be relying on support to safeguard her back, we should be able to enter the field openly to begin extraction. Once the objective is complete, the infiltrators can start a countdown timer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he’d scrawled the instructions for gaining passcodes, Guillo froze and shrunk in on himself, as if becoming aware of his audience for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he did, until Papa crossed over to him and laid an encouraging hand upon his shoulder. Guillo’s muscles relaxed, though he shifted to keep his benefactor between himself and the room’s other occupants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A mass of wrinkles rolled across Savyna’s brow, and she continued to study Guillo from the corner of her eye throughout the rest of the strategic meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kalas settled in his bunk to regain his strength before the raid, his exhausted mind nonetheless buzzed at the puzzle pieces that had made their way into his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Papa’s hiding something again,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he decided, going over the many, many times he had behaved protectively towards Guillo, even as early as the shoopuf ride, </span>
  <em>
    <span>He knows exactly who Guillo is, and he’s keeping it from the rest of us.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as a sliver of him cried </span>
  <em>
    <span>Papa would never keep it secret if it could hurt me!</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it couldn’t plug the rush of bitterness, jealousy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He deserves to be caught up in the aftermath</span>
  </em>
  <span>, part of him raged.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He always said he loved us, but then he left for no reason!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I bet he’s happy Fee died!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Self-revulsion overtook his anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not now, not now, not now—stay focused! Savyna doesn’t know either, she thinks it’s weird too. I can ally with her if it comes to it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But it just made him think about Guillo and Papa and all the lies and plotting—his heart stuttered and thudded and whined inside his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to focus on something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari led to Guillo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti led to Duhr led to Wacho led to… Guillo.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he gasped to himself, latching onto the more palatable mystery she presented</span>
  <em>
    <span>, Xelha can do amazing things. She beat Folon up with </span>
  </em>
  <span>butterflies</span>
  <em>
    <span>! She has that mystery aeon. She follows me around for some reason. And she may be a witch from Wazn.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was Melodia who told him that, which she began to suspect after Xelha’s enigmatic first meeting with Guillo, the latter of whom would not speak as to its contents no matter how much he was bullied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frustration bayed him under his pillow, where he found nothing but the ebb and flow of misery and helplessness in the face of his nature.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You were… </span>
  </em>
  <span>are</span>
  <em>
    <span>... excessively human, Kalas,” Doctor Larikush murmured as he tended to the bruise on Kalas’ face, “His Eminence—he—I—” He ground his molars together.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor Georg swept past. “So the heartflask was tainted… but the data… applied to a purer sample….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Georg!” hissed Doctor Larikush. He constricted his arms around Kalas. Tapped his palm against his back. “He means well, Kalas. He just… expected you to be different. That’s all.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas bit through his lip and wondered why Doctor Larikush hadn’t said ‘better’.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a strangled noise. Whatever emotion it was meant to convey was too tangled in on itself to identify. All he knew was that it was immense and fierce and inexorable. And so he scratched at his mattress like a bunnycat in a collapsed warren and let his breath catch in his sinuses.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fee! Fee! Don’t leave me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But Fee was already gone, the spiral birthmark on his forehead utterly obscured by blood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How could you?! Damn you! Damn the Whale for letting this happen!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Da̓ͫ̍̔̿̂ͤm̋n̓́̒͂ ͫ͑ͭ̌̃ͣ̊t̊ͦͭh̓̒ͤͥ̐͛̓e͛̏ͯͯͣ ̔W̒hͭͭ͛͗ā̊ͣ͗̉͂lͤ͋e̊ͣ̃!</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The great red eye of Sin stared straight into him-her. No, Sin was gone, in its place a blood red sky and ebony clouds.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I swear… I swear I’ll destroy you! No matter what it takes! You hear me, Sin?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>N̉̏̎̋̐o͌̾ ̈́ͭ̒̌mͭ̆͛̉a͂̉ͣ̉͊t̅̀̐̓tͤ̎ͮ̅ͬ͌ë́̂ͯ̆r ̉͑w̃ͨ̋͛̅ͮh͂ͣa̽̅̆̌t̿̇ͨ̔̇̋ ̈́̃̋͐̀̾iͪͤ̚t͑̋͛ ͗̊̂ͬͮ͌t͋̓͆aͥ̐͒̈́͐kͬ̇́̓ȇs̊͌ͨ͌ͫͯ͑!̔̂̽̋</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s eyes shot open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was late. But not late enough she could have an early rise to her day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bone-deep exhaustion, too strong to even yawn, was nevertheless not enough to get her eyes to close again. And so she gathered up the many layers of her gossamer green robe and cerulean nightgown and padded through the hold like some lost, waifish spirit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow!” she cried, having misjudged the jump to the roof and subsequently smacked her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rustle from above, and then a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and wondered if she hadn’t merely dreamt of waking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look who’s showing her rebellious streak,” teased Kalas, sitting comfortably in his undergarments. His eyes seemed faintly red-rimmed, as if he’d been crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean you’ll be showing your well-mannered streak soon?” she giggled back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tossed his hair in an exaggerated fashion. “Nah, it’s not my style.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed and watched his hair blow in the night breeze. “Aren’t you cold?” She let her eyes flick down to his nipples, not finding it in her to feel shame despite getting caught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked pointedly at her own garb, which was only opaque due to the sheer number of layers. “Aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed, “It takes much more than </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make me feel cold.” Indeed, though it was the dead of the night, it felt like a summer day to her thick Ice Lands’ blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, his face fell. Not to sorrow, no, but gloomy contemplation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Melodia thinks you’re from Wazn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow it wasn’t surprising that he would figure her out, with or without help. Perhaps it was that thought that helped her keep her cool rather than freeze up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you don’t?” she prompted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing in aggravation, he fell back to stare up at the stars—or rather, the light show that would have to stand in for them. “I don’t know what to think. I mean, you don’t look like any other islander I’ve seen… but Wazn? It’d be more believable that you were from Wezn, especially now that we know Hassaleh survived </span>
  <em>
    <span>its</span>
  </em>
  <span> fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed again. It wouldn’t be worth the questions raised if she told him that the Al Wezn had been an Al Fhard clan that mixed blood with the earliest Wazni. It didn’t matter anyway; like most of the nations of Alfard, Wezn had been lost to the Taintclouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha let out a sigh of her own and joined him. “Kalas….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know, you swore an oath, blah blah blah.” He rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are your feelings hurt?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aloud she assured him, “That’s not what I was going to say. It’s true I can’t tell you the truth right now.…” She paused to imagine the consequences and shuddered. “...but when we face Sin, I want nothing more than to tell you everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How odd that, of everything he’d said to her, it would be that one word that left her the most surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must have noticed, for he rolled onto his side and elaborated, “I mean, we barely know each other. I can’t even figure out why you would want to be my guardian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without his usual bluster, he looked so… vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve always been your guardian.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” she answered quickly, “I just… I’ve felt a connection to you ever since we met, before you got your aeons.” Feeling bold, she brushed a leaf of his circlet out of his eyes. “Like it was fate that our roads would cross, that we would fight together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas snorted bitterly. “‘Fate’, huh? That’s one word for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? And what do you call it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stalking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their gazes met, neutral. Xelha was the first to crack, giggling wildly, followed by Kalas’ quiet but genuine chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said, still grinning, “So I don’t actually think you have it in you to be a stalker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you agree it’s fate?” she teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bitterness returned, lurking in the corners of his eyes and mouth. “You really believe in that stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t want to….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...but I can’t seem to get through to you, no matter what I try</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she dared glance up, Kalas’ eyes had narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were the one who brought it up.” Whatever he saw in her face, he continued, “Unless this is one of your oath things.” He said it as if the very concept revolted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” she asked sternly, trying to think of a reprimand that wouldn’t put all her cards on the table, “You haven’t even tried to gather aeons free of Malpercio’s influence!” Belatedly recalling their meeting at Moonguile Temple—or, more accurately, the taunts he’d been subjected to—she corrected herself. “At least, not on this pilgrimage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making a face, Kalas muttered, “I already told you guys; what’s the point of trying the same thing over and over again?” His voice grew stronger. “Why not branch out? Everyone talks about going after the Canon Five, but I don’t see you using them either! What, is it </span>
  <em>
    <span>fate</span>
  </em>
  <span> when </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> do it?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know the first thing about it!” she yelled back as she sat up, before remembering how late it was. Fortunately, there was no sign of the sleepers stirring. “There are times I… hate my duty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The admission seemed to calm him down, or at least jar him out of his anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So quit,” he said, though his tone confessed that he understood it was much more complicated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was her turn to choke out a laugh heavy with acid. “Even if I could….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Goddess of Ice lives in my soul.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mother would be devastated.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Our world would die.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You would fall into ruin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She was stirred from her perseverating by a punch to her right shoulder, just hard enough to leave a slight sting. “Ow!” she said, more out of habit than pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like someone’s sleepier than she thought.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teasing lilt from the start of the conversation was back, and she was too relieved to push the issue further.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s always tomorrow</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she told herself, surrendering to the urge to return his smile, </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>needs</span>
  <em>
    <span> this kind of happiness… this reminder of how good life can be….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting back a yawn—when had she become sleepy again?—she accepted Kalas’ proffered hand and let him help her to rise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before letting go, she gave it a squeeze and murmured, “Kalas, if something’s ever bothering you, please talk to me about it. I want to help; not just as your guardian… but as your friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she returned his earlier favor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, damn, no need to get violent! I’ll think about it, okay?” he groused, though his grumpy facade quavered the whole time. “In the meantime, go to bed! You’re even more sentimental than usual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cooed jokingly when he produced a steaming cup of camomile tea from a magnus. “And here I thought you said I wouldn’t see your well-mannered side~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made to push her off the roof but she was too quick, sidestepping and, with a single finger, unbalancing him so he fell. The tea splashed the deck as she dodged his retribution, both laughing and flitting about the ship for just a few minutes more.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After all, how many more chances will I get for us to be just two people?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>For once, Kalas didn’t have to fake his pre-breakfast grumpiness—between his sleepless dread of the upcoming day, the early wakeup call, and the downright surreal talk and subsequent horsing around with Xelha in the night, he did not want to be awake. Certainly not if it meant looking at Gibari’s obnoxiously alert mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he wasn’t the only one. Aside from Savyna and Guillo, who no doubt were used to getting up disgustingly early for drills or whatever, his companions sat miserably with military-grade coffee as Gibari went over some minor adjustments that had to be made on account of the chocobo knights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In seemingly no time whatsoever, his glare was transferred from his cup of ink to his reflection on Guillo’s sound shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No signal… we should have received the go-ahead half an hour ago,” Guillo reported, continuing to peer through his scope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe your shiny machina gave away our position and the Al Fhard already killed them all.” Kalas was still annoyed that Guillo was apparently more deserving of his papa’s trust than he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlikely,” Savyna cut in, “The alarm would have been sounded by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, is that it?” asked Gibari, pointing to one of the middle ships.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ship in question was wiggling its turrets one by one. Meaning everything was set for the rescue crew to enter the phalanx.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes narrowed, Savyna barked, “Be on your guard—something’s off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we’re going in anyway,” grumbled Kalas, who was honestly prepared to ditch the whole operation, land on Mira, do what needed to be done, and tear his hair out trying to sneak into Alfard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas need not be worried while the Great Mizuti be at his side!” They struck a heroic pose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are we taking you on the stealth mission again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia booped his nose. “A question that could just as easily be directed at you~♥~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet, soldiers!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo led the way, flanked on either side by Gibari and Mizuti (supposedly to protect their resident expert, though Kalas suspected they were shouldering into the lead for revenge and glory respectively). Savyna and Melodia acted as rearguard and the rest were once again confined to the middle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If an alarm was raised by their entry, it was a silent one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon they had alighted upon the ‘island’ and were facing the strangest ship Kalas had ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was made of wood, for one—who had enough money and prestige to build a ship entirely out of such a scarce resource? And, for that matter, why? There were many material choices that were more durable or lightweight or affordable. It didn’t even seem to be pseudoak, a fast-growing shrub that supplied most of the commercially available wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shape, too, was odd. There were really only three shapes skyliners came in: the many-chambered shells that relied on swim bladders to stay afloat, glorified saddles on the backs of skybeasts, and the sleek imperial vessels that sliced through the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wooden ship, however, was designed like a fisherman’s boat at an exponentially bigger scale. Such a relationship made it stand to reason that it was intended to be used on water, though it was impossible to imagine a body of water large enough to house it, let alone warrant its size.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandpapa’s staying hand stirred him from the reverie that had him meandering towards the spectacle. “I know it’s interesting, but don’t venture too far ahead, boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grievances with his papa momentarily forgotten, he whispered back, “It looks like it was made for travel over water but I don’t think even the Greater Celestial River would be deep enough to hold it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha perked up like a fluffpup at mealtime. “Wait, you don’t know—”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>KRAK-BOOM!</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Ice crystals gathering around her, she cried, “It’ll have to wait!” And then she was cartwheeling away midair to avoid the disorienting waves emitted by an incoming paramachina unit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find cover!” snapped Savyna, tearing sparking wounds into it with her claws. She immediately took out another with a sweeping downward kick that smashed it to pieces under her heel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Screw that!” Kalas shouted back, drawing the Sword of the Heavens for the first time since capturing it. True to his word, he corkscrewed straight through a gaggle of the machina, peeling their exoskeletons away like apple skins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One he missed loomed in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SCHWING-TING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo was barely taking the time to aim before firing, there were so many approaching. “Keep moving!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their retreat was made easier by Mizuti zooming right through the ranks of their enemies like a battering ram, the power of chronos making the machina burst open at the seams. Gears sprayed in their wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia, meanwhile, looked more like a raven than he ever had. Stained a shimmering black with oil from a figurative bloodbath, she tore through every opponent in her path, laughing in that maniacal way he kept warning her about doing in public.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stray spark caught him in the face, and he decided to focus on his own battles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Sword was a marked improvement upon his old swordstaff. Not only was it more powerful, it left his other hand open to use his backup weapon: a wicked dagger, complete with a thick blade forged in the flamberg style. It felt good to hold it again, reverse-gripped to defend his flank. It had been his present to himself after he learned he had the potential to become a summoner. He didn’t often have the opportunity to use it, but he did love it ever so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I give the signal, make for the ship!” Savyna yelled over the sound of battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Want to tell us what the signal is?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was about to ask, but in that moment a pond’s worth of water gathered around her fist, taking on the form of a spear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas decided to leave her to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner had they set foot aboard the ship than a ludicrously large number of Al Fhard soldiers had gathered on the deck, machina poised to fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas scowled, muttering to himself, “There’s only one guy I know this over-the-top.” Louder, he called, “Show yourself, Giacomo!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the insufferable drama queen still hadn’t shown his lousy face, Kalas cursed and shouted, “<span>Yt luhh, Giacomo!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a clinking of armor, he knew he’d hit paydirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tsk, tsk, that grammar is atrocious, Kalas, to say nothing of your accent,” rumbled Giacomo, moseying out of a room in the hold, “<span>Kkoz qobu aey juus zuohqasp qas, Larikush?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey vsek nyrr kurr kek lannaverz az ath ze dtevytu dtasutth eyzthalu en zku Usdatu</span>,” replied Larikush dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In typical Giacomo fashion, he responded by tossing <span> z"&gt;a single magnus</span> towards Larikush, who caught it effortlessly. “Charity, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Sasl aeyt sossutth, kea.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Tuwqotk aey kheyrl sasl aeyw zespyu, erl sos</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without waiting for a response from either ‘family member’, the commander was already setting his sights on Guillo. “You, boy. I must offer thanks on behalf of my associates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas whipped around to face him. “That’s why the plan didn’t work—you betrayed us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That sneaky son of a—I didn’t even get to frame him for anything!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have most certainly done nothing of the sort!” Guillo declared, leaning in with one arm thrown behind him, the other clenched in a fist.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This’s got your name written all over it, buddy. There’s no way the plan could go this spectacularly bad without someone tipping the Empire off, and you’ve been pre~tty cozy with Folon and Ayme.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rest assured,” said Giacomo, not assuringly at all, “it wasn’t this lad’s fault your little rescue was thwarted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kalas didn’t immediately relent, all it took was one chiding word from his grandpapa to get him muttering a mostly insincere apology to Guillo.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Then again, if Papa knows his secrets AND still trusts him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, letting his eyes drink in all the information available to him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s worth taking him at face value… for now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometime during the battle, Xelha, Gibari, and Mizuti had been separated from them.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All three are suspicious but.... Mizuti only just got here—even if they wanted to betray us, they wouldn’t have a chance to network. Xelha… unless she’s really, really deep undercover, she’s taken and given too many beatings. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldiers were poised to fire, however, their stance was more relaxed than it should be. No doubt they were expecting an easy capitulation.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gibari on the other hand… he may not have married King Charming yet but it’s not like Ladekahn has any heirs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Due to their positioning somewhat off-center on the stern, it would be possible to break the weaker line behind them and dive onto the lower deck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he realized as he caught a faint glinting from the crow’s nest. Nothing he could confirm was a gun… but he wasn’t interested in chancing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If me, Papa, Melodia, and Guillo are out, that just leaves Savyna. But then where does the whole living in a jungle with an annoying mechanic for two years come in? No, Geldoblame is a melodramatic diva but that would be asinine even for him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They could probably pull it off… assuming everyone had the same idea and sense of timing. The only thing standing between his merry band of guardians and their freedom was the power of working together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Working </span>
  <em>
    <span>together.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna, the veteran commando.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Papa, the giver of a thousand chances.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia, the wannabe chessmaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo, the catalyst of trust schisms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Kalas himself, the paranoid scavenger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Them, work together as a single unit.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, that’ll happen,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he snorted, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yay. Teamwork.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Everybody alright?” came Gibari’s gruff voice from the shadows of the hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be tip-top! Superb! Splendid~✭~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I’m alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>The Doctor and the Atoner will be most displeased should they learn of your mistruth at this time. As am I.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>But Xelha ignored both Shiva and the agony in her twisted arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Break not your body for this fool’s errand, Ice Queen! </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking advantage of the lacking visibility, she pushed the bone at its socket tentatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about the landing—I misjudged you guys’ weight when I jumped, and I’m not exactly the best flier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, really, I’m fine,” she stuttered, desperate to keep the strain out of her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me take a look anyway? We’ve got time to make sure friends don’t go keeling over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his footsteps approached, she rammed it at the joint until it popped back in. Gritting her teeth against the by now familiar throbbing numbness, she downed a potion just as Gibari’s face became visible through the gloom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave the most convincing smile she could manage. “See? You don’t need to worry so much, Gibari.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised an unimpressed brow, shot a significant glance at her arm, and crossed his own over his chest. “Tell the truth, kiddo. Hiding it will only hurt you in the long run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shamefaced, she admitted, “I’ve been undergoing physical therapy as prescribed by Doctor Larikush. Once we’re reunited, I’ll have him look it over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha be injured?!” gasped Mizuti, bounding over with a magnus in hand, “Don’t be putting on a brave face! Take care of yourself, and the Great Mizuti be taking care of the rest!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She accepted the gift: a silver chalice filled to the brim with a water so clear, it almost seemed empty. The taste was faintly metallic. Though it didn’t make her feel particularly more fit, a warm sensation filled her, almost as if the water was imbued with powerful white magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as well, for, in that moment, the steady clomp of a boots falling in formation shook dust from the rafters. She became all too aware of the hole in the deck leading straight to their location, tell-tale of a dragoon’s passage. They were sitting fantails.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clomp.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clomp.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clomp.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Whisper-shouting at the discovery of their entry point.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clompclompclomp.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Az’k Rambari-kes osl zqu koan! Osl zqua’bu tahhul yt kesu nwuoh as o sokh</span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her left, Gibari cracked his knuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her right, Mizuti was lazily swaying from side to side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zqu lwopees kes’z ju ogru ze pyst as quwu—ku qobu o hqoshu! Les’z nuow luozq, kerlauwk; zqash en zqu jeysza sesua! Ku heyrl wujyarl zqu sudz barropu ebuw kazqeyz wyssasp eyz!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever had been said, the less eager of their enemies abruptly became animated. One even lunged forward with their saber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha let herself smirk. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they continued, she ducked under the swing and thrust her wand upwards and under the soldier’s chestplate, directly into the solar plexus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aquara Burst!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier bowled over their comrades’ formation, a hole punched through their sternum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t have time to process the shock, however, as Gibari spun his spear to block a retaliatory strike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In turn she blew machina bolts off-course to lodge harmlessly into the walls—that is, except for those directly in her path, which returned whence they came to devastating effect. Their owners shrieked and dropped the machina, clutching at their hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fingers broken. Fingers missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she didn’t have time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti was guiding their chakrams through the troops like dragonflies in hot pursuit of gnats. When a soldier got too close, Xelha was there to knock them back into Gibari’s waiting swing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been less than thirty to start with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In minutes the skirmish was over, gruesome piles of bent and severed limbs soaking the floorboards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha spared a prayer for the fallen. Then, with a resolve-hardened heart, she followed the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s—hey, Xelha, mind lighting this place up a bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small orb made all the difference and soon Gibari had led them to what appeared to be the captain’s quarters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He listened at the door, then whispered, “‘Kahn, you in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gib, you’re late,” was the teasing reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “Better clear out of the way.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Giacomo was still rambling when Kalas noticed movement in his peripheral. Feigning teenage insolence, he shifted to get a better view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the crowsnest. The soldiers were gone. And it seemed like he was the only one who’d noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully he watched and was rewarded with a brief flash of pink and turquoise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Xelha’s bright colors stood out too well against the dark backdrop. A nearby soldier blatantly stared at the tattered sail she’d disappeared behind. He stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—and Kalas closed it for him with his fist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant he was forced to kneel with his arms wrenched behind his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I was wondering when you would act out. I was beginning to worry where my scrappy little son went,” Giacomo said from behind him, “I don’t know how you and Georg do it, Doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Son?!” gasped Guillo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For once Kalas didn’t deny it. He didn’t need the attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep talking, jackass.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kaw!</span>” lisped the soldier he’d attacked, the word whistling through newly acquired tooth gaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas cursed. He’d pegged him for a glass jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zqu koan as tash, kqu’k quwu!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kurr, A keyrl huwzoasra qetu ke. O pyowlaos kqeyrl qobu o huwzoas rubur en kewh uzqah.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tuned them out. Focused on his magical core. Reached for the spirit within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She has nothing to do with this!” Papa shouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Temper, temper. I would like our Kalas to learn restraint sooner or later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to do it now!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Inhale—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THUNK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SPLUM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Al Fhard holding him down were torn away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honeyed leather in the form of a glove appeared. Grasping it, he was pulled to his feet by a strong, yet willowy figure. He followed the aristocratic hands up a toned arm, coming to rest on the face of the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Creamy, flawless marble. His long snowy locks crinkled delicately over his feylike features, while his forked brows lent a roguish quality, as if he was some debonair pirate out to steal the gold from a maiden’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there were his eyes: a pretty sea-blue, unremarkable save for being unmatched to his hair. In all his travels, Kalas had only seen in Melodia and Savyna that rare trait. It gave the overall impression of blue lace pottery, in spite of his plain blouse and pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He allowed himself a single internal sigh over the svelte beauty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now to stop staring before I make the fiance jealous.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>King Ladekahn, looking in much better shape than their brief prior meeting, spun gracefully back into the fray, lunging with a saber fit for his status. It was laden with silver filigree around the quarter-basket hilt, which climbed the blade like latticed vines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladekahn joined Gibari in holding back a gaggle of soldiers, and he had to admit they made a handsome couple. They fought back to back, rotating as required by their difference in reach. Thanks to their proximity, he could see that while Gibari was broader of frame and build, Ladekahn had the advantage of height.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s rude to stare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas turned and darted backwards in the same movement. Now in front of him, Giacomo followed his retreat at his own leisurely pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before their typical clashing could resume, Xelha and Mizuti were in front of him, their sheer magical energy distorting the air as in a heat wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo threw back his head and let out a deep belly laugh. “You’re proving yourself to be quite the nuisance, girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t get Kalas!” she snapped back, “Call off your soldiers before I’m forced to make you sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you did last time?” he sneered, folding his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to be outdone, Kalas’ other guardian cried, “Kalas be under the protection of The Great Mizuti, and the Great Mizuti be angry! Leave now or be crushed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo’s eyebrows disappeared under his helm. “Another guardian?” He smirked at Kalas. “And where did you find this… creature?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Creature’?! The Great Mizuti be a Child of the Earth!” The pout was audible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, this caused him to again roar with laughter. More so than Kalas thought it deserved, even being as absurd a statement as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The enemy clearly be struck with madness,” Mizuti commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas sighed. “No, this is pretty normal for Giacomo. Make sure you steer clear of weirdos like him, okay? They’re a good way to get kidnapped… or worse.” And as funny as it would be to see Mizuti turn would-be abductors into a smear, it’d probably be better for the kid to avoid the trauma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to worry, Kalas! The Great Mizuti be eating weirdos for breakfast—with a side of falafel and lox even!” Arms akimbo, they gave him a proud nod. “The Great Mizuti appreciates your concern however! …though it be misplaced.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, “Right, right, I won’t doubt the Great Mizuti again!” He couldn’t help a fond smile, though he wasn’t sure where it came from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the deck, Giacomo was finally calming down. Turning to Xelha, he chortled, “You must be </span>
  <em>
    <span>overjoyed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to meet another of your kind.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently the jab was on the money, for Xelha toed her heel and slumped in discomfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connecting the clues, Kalas turned a sly glance on her and snickered, “Wow, Xelha, and here I thought I was a bad influence on you! Turns out you’ve been toeing the line all along~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh—! Quiet, you!” she sputtered, turning red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A whistle called their attention back to their enemy. Giacomo had his fist raised, which was apparently the signal for the Al Fhard to stop fighting. Looking less than defeated, his eyes flicked between the two summoners one last time before turning and rising into above the deck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would hate to keep you from your pilgrimage. Until next time, Kalas,” he said with an insulting rendition of the Eye of the Whale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It said something that no one told him off for the rude hand gesture he sent his way.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 13/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 4/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. In Which Downtime Is Unkind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p><em> I would pay you to change your alias </em>, Kalas thought sullenly, watching yet another round of scrutiny directed towards Guillo, this time at the hands of Ladekahn.</p><p>The king was frowning, though not unkindly. “I must say, anyone who knew Milliarde well enough to have met Guillo must have been quite the woman. May I ask her name? I met a number of her and Sagi’s friends following the Tarazed Incident.”</p><p>“Um.” Guillo was one tense muscle away from snapping his own spine. “It is… doubtful she would have been present; I am given to believe it was a brief friendship, hardly more than an acquaintanceship.”</p><p>Ladekahn gave him a considering look. “Perhaps. I shan’t ask any further.” But a mischievous smile flashed across his face.</p><p>Gibari whispered conspiratorially, “We’ve got a bet going about the old gang—’Kahn thinks Wrenches put down her toolbox long enough to have a family.”</p><p>
  <em> A female engineer who met the real Guillo? Don’t need three guesses for that one. </em>
</p><p>“If you’re talking about Lolo—” Given their reaction, he most certainly was. “—she and this one—” A jerk of the head towards Savyna. “—are the proud mothers of a hundred freaky dolls.”</p><p>Gibari whooped in delight and smacked Ladekahn’s shoulder hard enough to almost knock him over. The loser grumbled and handed over 1000 gil, which Gibari gleefully split with his informant.</p><p>“You and I are going to get along just fine, Kalas!” he crowed, downing the last of his post-battle celebratory whiskey.</p>
<hr/><p>By the time they landed on Mira proper, Kalas was eager for space from the group. The first chance he got, he foisted them off onto the locals.</p><p>Not that it was difficult.</p><p>Lacking a proper port, the first true stop on a tour of Mira was Parnasse, the Confectionary Village. On any normal occasion, the sight of hill upon hill of sweets would be distracting on its own, but they had arrived on the eve of the annual Baking Festival.</p><p>All around, villagers were bustling to prepare for the festivities. To the left, a gardener was pouring sugar water on the spunners, a local flower made entirely out of spun sugar. He became incensed when a passing go-for tripped over the finest bloom, grinding the fragile plant into the cocoa powder soil.</p><p>An obvious up-and-comer on the baking scene frantically swung a katana at the mountain apples thrown her way, somehow creating evenly sliced rings for her assistants to catch on sticks, layers of wafer and cream cheese jammed between them. These were then deep-fried and coated with powdered sugar. A nearby Anuenuan watched slack-jawed, clearly unnerved by the level of competition their Komo Mai cookies were about to face.</p><p>In the closest thing Parnasse had to a dark alley—a naturally-formed tunnel through the frosted hills—the usual dubiously-legal shenanigans were going on: under-the-table deals for exotic or high-end ingredients, rigged betting pools on the outcome of the baking competition, last-minute attendees getting scalped for lodging.</p><p>“Out of the way, Kupo!”</p><p>Kalas recognized the infamous Kupocake Troupe: the all-Moogle travelling bakery. The talking, flying fluffballs were but one of Mira’s many acquisitions from the nation’s periodic extradimensional forays. They specialized in cupcakes, often cream-filled, liquor-infused, or both. Each member of the Troupe was weaving rapidly through the crowd with a teetering mountain of trays. It was a minor miracle none had toppled over yet.</p><p>A functional cookie chariot manned by frustrated chocobos. Ornate rugs woven of a veritable rainbow of licorice. A life-size marzipan sculpture of Melodia in her formalwear, complete with see-through panes of dyed sugar to act as her stained glass skirt. Pistachio cream puffs skewered alongside candied pears and plums. Allspice-dusted donuts with apricot glaze.</p><p>And there, in the town square, a tradition almost as old as the festival itself: eternal rivals Donella and Tisocco screaming about the superiority of their recipes. Most villagers and even visitors were so used to it they barely paid it any mind.</p><p>Hence why, upon catching sight of fresh meat, the two descended upon his retinue with pastries in hand. With practically no effort on his part, he ditched the babysitters and ducked into the nearest building.</p><p>Which turned out to be Tisocco’s bakery.</p><p>It was unusually empty of apprentices, though he’d heard through the grapevine that they often hovered over their master’s arguments with Donatella to intervene if it turned into a brawl.</p><p>He caught sight of movement by the great wall oven. He’d been wrong about all the apprentices clearing out; swaying tail feathers jutting out from behind the island counter betrayed the presence of a fashion-forward young lady.</p><p>(Mira, when it was able to make contact with the other islands, often took the opportunity to import the latest styles. It seemed Anuenuan accent pieces were in, based on the duck tail poking out of her skirt.)</p><p>She straightened up, revealing a scarlet dress and bun-shaped hat that obscured her body from view. Until, of course, she sensed his eyes upon her, promptly turning to her assumed customer.</p><p>Familiar teal eyes locked with his own, and her mouth drifted open in surprise. Then Trill was snatching up a nearby damp towel and throwing it at him, exclaiming, “Look who the cat dragged in!”</p><p>“That’s my line! Since when are you a baker?” He’d always thought she’d either take over the family restaurant or, assuming one of her five little brothers wanted it, run for mayor.</p><p>“Since business has lagged with the same-old, same-old,” she sighed, wiping her hands clean and drawing him into a hug, “We do fine when Mira cycles out, but people like to take advantage of options when they’re available, you know?”</p><p>“I guess.”</p><p>She gave him a look. “Same old Kalas, I suppose. Well, it’s going to be another hour before I need to check on the pie. Come on, you can vent in the back.”</p><p>Trill led the way to a semi-private outdoor area, fenced in by fine chocolate bricks from the storied days when the rivals got along. His former best—and only—friend settled under a fruit tree, patting the ground next to her. When he got close, he saw that each branch was from a different kind of tree, tricked into binding with each other. It was so apropos of his life as a whole he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.</p><p>She followed his line of sight. “Kalas, you’re being dumb again.”</p><p>He tried to swallow down the knives of dryness. “Yeah. I am.” It didn’t work.</p><p>“Want to share whatever overblown poetry you’ve cooked up in your head?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she sighed again, face falling to vague unhappiness. “Oh, Kalas, when did we stop understanding each other?”</p><p>“Well, it has been a few years since… you know…,” he muttered, sitting at last. Though she claimed not to understand him, just having her presence there made him feel more whole.</p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>By her downturned gaze, he could guess that at least one of her two brothers who had been caught up in Sin’s attack had finally passed. Even youth couldn’t fully protect the heart from Lost Wing Syndrome. He wondered if it was Tizan, whom he’d given piggyback rides to, or Nory, who would lecture anyone who would listen on ‘facts’ he’d read about greythornes.</p><p>He found himself looking back at the tree. “If someone did this to people, they’d be called a monster.”</p><p>Trill rifled through her voluminous pockets and pulled out a small herb pipe, filling and lighting it.</p><p>“That’s new.”</p><p>“It helps me deal with gloomy old friends and their daydreams about human experimentation.”</p><p>He suspected it helped her deal with something much worse.</p><p>Gnawing on the mouthpiece, she said, “It’s a tree, Kalas. It can mean anything you want it to, but at the end of the day? It’s a tree.”</p><p>
  <em> Apple, pear, peach, mulberry, cherry… I wonder which Bo is most like? </em>
</p><p>“...I guess you’re right.”</p><p>She looked like she wanted to press him but, as it was a subject painful to her as well, let it go. “So, I see you got your summoner digs. Got guardians to match?”</p><p>Kalas groaned, eager to finally vent to someone who wouldn’t pass it along. “I started out with one, now I’ve got six busybodies hovering over my shoulder!”</p><p>“Six?!” she guffawed, sliding two mugs of tea out of a magnus, “How’d <em> that </em> happen?”</p><p>“Ugh, I turn my back for two seconds and Melodia—”</p><p>“—Not Her Grace?!”</p><p>“—it’s a long story. She invites along this other summoner who just… dropped everything she was doing after we met?”</p><p>“Oho~?”</p><p>“No, not ‘oho’, she’s nice and all, but I think she might be a stalker?”</p><p>“So kick her out.”</p><p>“Can’t. I found Papa in an Al Fhard ship and he imprinted on her. They’re always sneaking away to gossip over tea. I caught them practicing a secret handshake the other day.”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“<em> Yes. </em>”</p><p>“That brings it up to three...?”</p><p>“I invited Guillo along to spite Melodia, but it turns out he’s some kind of Al Fhard assassin fugitive or whatever.”</p><p>“And you can’t kick him out because…?”</p><p>“Papa.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>“And then who should I run into but Lady Death!”</p><p>“If I’m following the pattern here….”</p><p>“She strong-armed her way onto the team. At this point, if I kick her out, she’ll probably just follow me anyway and watch me while I sleep.”</p><p>“And number 6?”</p><p>“Weird masked kid. Probably harmless? I think?”</p><p>“...What a motley crew.”</p><p>“Tell me about it!”</p><p>Really it was <em> him </em> who told <em> her </em> about it. At length. Until Savyna, bloodhound that she was, tracked him down and fixed him with an icy glare.</p><p>“Ah, Trill, correct?” asked Papa pleasantly, “It’s good to see you well!” He frowned. “Although you may wish to find a healthier coping mechanism.”</p>
<hr/><p>Parnasse, Reverence, and finally Balancoire itself—Mira was shaping up to be the most interesting and varied locale Xelha had ever visited. Admittedly, part of the appeal was being able to experience the other side of an environment she’d only ever seen in her nightmares.</p><p>In between the major landmarks were a number of other, ‘less noteworthy’ townships, such as Foremost Bethel (an area of absolute darkness and weightlessness, save for clusters of magnetic rocks and insects shaped like myriad celestial bodies, endlessly chasing each other like an interactive star map). Its twin, the church known as Endmost Bethel, was a Miran satellite that phased in and out of their dimension, much like Mira herself.</p><p>Then there was Opulence, the Expanding City, so named because it was constructed entirely out of the silk produced by massive spiders, which the denizens harvested to manufacture fine cloth. In fact, the buildings were woven directly into the overarching web. For their part, the spiders seemed to prefer the local wildlife to humans, though that could be on account of the natives’ heavy use of cosmetics that made it impossible for the silk to adhere to their skin.</p><p>Every region had simultaneous elements of wonder and macabre. A literal land of milk and honey featured riverbanks scattered with curds the size of her fist. A village constructed entirely out of spent magnus, where she swore she could see human eyes following her from the cards. A band of travelers that seemed to be facing forward and standing in profile at the same time.</p><p>Compared to everything else she’d seen, the Borough of Illusion appeared disappointingly normal.</p><p>The streets were made from mosaic tiles in desaturated pastel tones, clustered together to form rows of large triangles. The tilework seemed to climb the buildings alongside ivy ‘til it reached the pinecone-esque roofing. A faint mist rose from a nearby canal.</p><p>A hand on her shoulder. Leaning in to meet her ear, Kalas murmured, “Don’t be fooled.”</p><p>And so she looked harder.</p><p>At first: nothing. But then she noticed a flicker of movement behind the trees—no, <em> through </em> them. It was a bird hopping down from a roof, which then flew straight through the trunk. Another that followed was not so lucky, as halfway through it became trapped inside the semi-corporeal bark.</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” he told her, walking ahead, “This part of Mira never fully integrates into whatever dimension we’re visiting.”</p><p>Sure enough, the bird landed gracelessly on the brush below, whereupon it squawked miserably and rolled under a bush.</p><p>“Reality is, after all, an illusion,” agreed Melodia, skipping and spinning her way through the streets, “Dear Balancoire is simply more honest about it than most.” She let out an eerie laugh and disappeared into the city.</p><p>As Xelha followed, the uncanny nature of the city showed itself in subtle ways. The roofing, while clearly functional, gave the impression that it was disconnected from the rest of the structure, as if a child had haphazardly glued a handful of scales over a flat painting. And the wall mosaics were less intentional artistry and more creeping thyme.</p><p>Before she knew it, she’d gotten completely separated from the rest of her companions. Here and there she thought she caught a glimpse of them, but it seemed to be yet another of the city’s tricks.</p><p>“I guess I’ll just have to wait for someone to come find me,” she sighed to herself, leaning over a bridge to peer at the water below.</p><p>“For your sake, I hope they’re long gone.”</p><p>Approaching her were two boys of roughly the same age as her. They were dressed as city natives, though their comfort in navigating a tricky patch of road—she’d given up on the stone staying solid and flown past it—spoke more than their clothes of their heritage.</p><p>“Can I help you?” she asked, mostly to be polite. She didn’t care for the tone they’d set.</p><p>The apparent leader shook his head. “You came here with Kalas, right?”</p><p>“Yes…?”</p><p>The two exchanged a world-weary glance. It again chafed at her, though they had yet to say something explicitly offensive.</p><p>The second, without warning, patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. “Trust us, that guy is bad news.”</p><p>“How so?” she countered as she wormed out from under his hand, debating the merits of letting her irritation show.</p><p>“Seriously?” gaped the leader, “You have to ask? I didn’t think that freak could get any worse than he already was, but he sure proved me wrong!”</p><p>Not noticing her increasingly icy glower, the other continued, “I get it, the bad boy routine can be sexy, but he’s messed up like you wouldn’t believe.”</p><p>“You’re right,” said Xelha, standing at her full height and staring down her nose at him, “I don’t believe it. Nor can I believe the gall you have to call my summoner a freak.”</p><p>The leader let out a bark of ugly laughter. “Your <em> summoner </em>? Don’t let those fancy robes fool you—have you seen that lump of metal on his shoulder? It’s—”</p><p>“—his winglet. Made for him by his grandfather.” She indulged in a spot of pettiness, allowing a trace of magic to seep into the moisture of the air, chilling it.</p><p>They shivered. </p><p>Intimidation on its own worked well enough, but, in her years of enforced contact with the Goddess Queen of the Bitter Winter, she’d developed a gentler touch—though, admittedly, it had been something of a necessity for her, lacking as she was of her mother’s stature and refinement. After all, why rely solely on affect when she could use the environment to influence their perceptions?</p><p>As intended, they seemed startled by their own reaction. <em> Why am I afraid of this—this waif? </em> she imagined they were asking themselves. Already their <em> perception </em> that they’d broken into a cold sweat had tricked them into <em> actually </em> doing so.</p><p>As always, she felt… conflicted about her manipulation, but, for a crown, it was the least of all evils. A shortcut past the cruelty of breaking them down through words alone. Additionally, it allowed her to easily get back in others’ good graces, as she wouldn’t need to rescind prior words (or risk appearing weak for doing so).</p><p>To give credit where it was due, the leader gulped and stayed his course. “Y-yeah, that. I don’t know what he told you about getting it, but he didn’t just lose that wing in an accident. He was born like that!”</p><p>Emboldened, the other chimed in, “What’s worse, the wing he <em> does </em> have… you don’t need an augur to know he’s trouble! ‘Even the raven, the soul of ill fortune, would rather avoid association with that wicked heart’, Ma used to say.”</p><p>Xelha ever-so-gently closed her eyes and exhaled the cold fury from within.</p><p>Once she was sure she wouldn’t show them something worthy of their fear, she spoke, as softly as her eyelashes rested on her cheeks, “Is he bad luck incarnate or does he repel it? You’re not making any sense.”</p><p>When she opened her eyes, all that remained of them was a flash of wing membranes and parting taunts, this time aimed at her. Their exact words eluded her.</p><p>“What was that all about?” she murmured to herself.</p><p>“I often wonder the same,” came an aged voice to her right, “I find it’s best to ignore the unenlightened.”</p><p>The man was old. Or at least his wrinkled face and faded red hair indicated such; his eyes, though possessing a strange wisdom, still held a youthful twinkle. It was staring into those warm maroon eyes and the clockwise spiral of the pupils that she realized who he was.</p><p>Xelha gasped, “Are you Georg? Kalas’ other grandfather?”</p><p>He inclined his head. “‘Other’? So Larikush is back in town, is he?” A note of amused fondness rippled through his creaky voice.</p><p>“Yes, we rescued him from an imperial commander, Giacomo, and have been travelling together ever since!”</p><p>“That boy.” He shook his head. It was as if Giacomo’s actions were a matter of disapproval, like a child sneaking candy after their bedtime.</p><p><em> That’s right </em> , she realized, recalling an early tea session, <em> Giacomo is his son </em>.</p><p>The sun peeked through a crack in the skyline, reminding her of just how long she’d been wandering. “Um, sir, speaking of Kalas, I lost track of the others soon after we arrived….”</p><p>He chuckled. “No need to be embarrassed! Balancoire is a tricky one.” In a surprisingly graceful motion, he lit his pipe, then offered her his arm. “The locals have a saying: ‘should the city mislead, follow to your true need’. I’d say this meeting was fortuitous for the both of us!”</p><p>Laughing, she took his arm and they walked jauntily along.</p><p>“By the way….” Georg looked at her with bemused tolerance.</p><p>“Hm? Oh! I’m sorry, my name is Xelha. I became Kalas’ guardian in Sadal Suud.” She would have given him the Eye of the Whale, but he didn’t seem to expect it.</p><p><em> Well, he </em> is <em> Al Zhani. Larikush isn’t much for Yevonese traditions either </em>.</p><p>He stopped dead in his tracks.</p><p>Xelha pondered the fear that had overtaken his face. </p><p>
  <em> Larikush acts the same way at times…. </em>
</p><p>Decision made, she released his arm, only to offer her own. She greeted his wariness with her brightest smile. “Our Kalas is quite a handful, isn’t he?”</p><p>Georg stared hard at her invitation.</p><p>About to back off, a swell of recognition stopped her in her tracks. She knew that shift in expression, that pregnant pause, that whirring of gears behind the brow.</p><p><em> Like grandfather, like grandson </em>.</p><p>And so she stayed in place, neither retreating nor pushing. “It’s getting a little late. How about I tell you all about our journey so far over tea?”</p><p>The moment ended with a snort as Georg relinked their arms. “Gotten to you, has he? That man—old the day he was born!”</p><p>Perhaps it was the company, perhaps the local adage was right, but where before the streets had seemed to lengthen with every step, Xelha now found them all but melting away.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Lady Sabine… Lord Saegitar… Lord Sagi! </em>
</p><p>Kalas slid the well-loved tomes out of their dedicated alcove. For such a popular (and recent) High Summoner, Sagi had only three compared to the dozens the likes of Lady Arecia the Wrathful and Lord Merde the Tyrant had accumulated. Even Lord Coatl, who was best known for being more mysterious than all of Kalas’ guardians combined, had five to his name.</p><p>(“Gramps, is it just me, or are there <em> four </em> pages worth of footnotes to every <em> one </em> page of actual text?” he had asked over dinner, frowning at the 688-page manuscript entitled <em> Under the Banner of the Serpent: An Account of the Lord of One Thousand Wings </em>.</p><p>Gramps hadn’t been much help, gnawing on his pipe and muttering in Al Zhani. He often did so when forced to reference academic materials. Once, having spent a full day in the Balancoire Academy library, he’d come home and rejected all company save for the bottle, from which he drank silently and morosely.</p><p>For months after, he insisted that the only problem he had with drinking was that it hadn’t erased his memory of ‘that idiot’s ramblings’.</p><p>It was Papa who answered, after he’d thought about it hard. “The details of Lord Coatl’s pilgrimage are of much scholarly debate. No doubt the author wished to address common points of contention, lest their audience deem their account lacking nuance or ill-informed.”</p><p>Kalas squinted. “But this part is just about the order of courses at a banquet!” The author was oddly adamant that smoked caviar had been served <em> before </em> the roasted tree nuts, as well as that Lord Coatl had eaten both with a carved spork.</p><p>“Yes, well,” said Papa, clearing his throat over Gramps’ increasingly vicious attempts to skewer his salad, “The most minute details can tell us much about the culture of the time. For example, if seemingly anachronistic elements are woven into the account, it can indicate a hole in our knowledge, or a misconception—”</p><p>As his grandpapa continued on to the rapt audience of one Fee, Kalas had decided that he was content to retain any spork-related misconceptions. He’d returned the book the next day, barely halfway through.)</p><p>He considered his options.</p><p>
  <em> The Heiress and the Crane </em>
</p><p>
  <em> High Summoner Sagi: The Vengeful Pilgrim </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A Chain in Twain: The Degradation of the Colonial Hierarchy and Its Implications With Regards to the Downfall of Tarazed (A Dissecting Dissertation on Desertion) </em>
</p><p>Much older and wiser than on his last visit, the titles alone kindled his apathy rather than curiosity.</p><p><em> I should probably make sure these are even going to have what I’m looking for, </em> he mused, opening each to their summary page.</p><p>
  <em> The Heiress and the Crane </em>
</p><p>
  <em> From Lord Jaska and Captain Aubrek to Lady Daggertongue and Fifth Son of Diadem, Prince Zodian II, the bond between High Summoners and their Ultimate Guardians is often a romantic one. However, few compare to the taboo that blossomed between Lady Milliarde and Lord Sagi. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> One, the son of a land enslaved, the other, the heiress to his master. His tenderness would sway the emperor’s daughter to enact the ultimate betrayal of filial piety. In turn, she would sacrifice her entire being for his victory. </em>
</p><p>“Is this a textbook or one of Trill’s cheap bodice-rippers?” he groaned. Pass.</p><p>
  <em> High Summoner Sagi: The Vengeful Pilgrim </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Birthed from the ne’er-cooling blood soaking the soil of Hassaleh, the blade of the Crane-Winged Angel sang death upon the pillagers of his homeland. Demanding blood in equal measure, Lord Sagi enacted revenge upon the nation that stole his innocence. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He began with the execution of Emperor Olgan. As planned, this launched the nation into a bloody civil war, inspiring such figures as the murderous Mourning Mistral and child-cannibalizing Masked Maneater to carve out their own mountain of bodies. And, at the final hour, he took his ultimate revenge: the seduction of the emperor’s own daughter. </em>
</p><p>“Even if Guillo gets mentioned, they’ll probably be portrayed as some kind of serial killer.” Pass.</p><p>
  <em> A Chain in Twain </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Insofar as His Lordship is concerned, one may be tempted to take a reductivist approach to addressing the disparate and, at times, contradictory elements of his character; however, to do so would be an unprecedented disservice to the plethora of far-reaching socio- and geo-political decisions Lord Sagi was elevated above his mean birth to cast judgment upon—and, indeed, to all who, to this day, experience the impact of the aforementioned policies (that is, any who would count themselves amongst the ranks of Skyfolk). </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Though doubtless one may offer criticism with regards to the suggestion that one might examine, without bias, the events of a mere five years ago (as of the publishing of this text), it is a venture that must nonetheless be taken whilst primary sources yet walk amongst us, lest the curious minds of generations to come be afflicted with the sensationalized and unnuanced reports that already find themselves in the process of canonization. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To understand the manner in which the rise and fall of Promachination and the concurrent defeat of Sin are intertwined, one must first consider the oft-ignored (or else misrepresented) environmental factors in the development of the key figures of the period.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Among these factors are the pseudo-colonistic approach regarding the governance of Hassaleh, the historical intraracial tensions within the Al Fhard ethnicity (as exacerbated by the rise of fascism in the preceding decades), Lady Milliarde’s uniquely globalist perspective (far predating her association with Lord Sagi, as evidenced by her education within the walls of Komo Mai’s lauded School of Magic), and the polarized ideologies that sounded the death knell of what remained of the democratic process following the end of the Golden Age of Alfard. </em>
</p><p>“...Looks like we have a winner.”</p><p> Kalas flipped to chapter 1.</p><p>Within the first agonizingly protracted sentence, the book was slammed shut.</p><p>Fingers drummed in agitation.</p><p>He checked the page counts. 243. 157. 420.</p><p><em> The Vengeful Pilgrim </em> it was.</p><p>...But first a snack.</p><p>...And coffee.</p><p>...And his old friend <em> Under the Banner of the Serpent </em> , if only to remind himself that there were, in fact, more tedious reads than <em> Overblown Romantic Tragedy</em>, <em> Gore-ifying Machismo: Bloodbath Edition</em>, and <em> An Examination on the Properties of Kindling</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>At the sound of a gentle rap at the door, Georg stilled midway through his telling of Kalas’ first encounter with a caplin, absentmindedly pushing <span>the supplies he'd gathered for her</span> across the table as he rose.</p><p>As soon as he unlatched the door, Larikush stepped inside with a blue bundle thrown across his shoulders. It was Kalas, dead asleep.</p><p>“It seems his inner academic resurfaced,” he said by way of explanation, settling Kalas into a chair, “and was summarily vanquished once more.”</p><p>“Well, at least he still has a good head on his shoulders,” was Georg’s approving reply.</p><p>Kalas twitched violently and moaned, “<em>Not… caviar… not with flameice….</em>”</p><p>Georg sighed. “Should I meet Lord Coatl in the Farplane, I may just have to give him a piece of my mind for the existence of that dreadful book.”</p><p>She suppressed a gasp. <em> Lord Coatl? As in the older brother of Queen Askaard? So that’s what befell the Wandering Prince</em>.</p><p>As only women could carry on the line of Kaffaljidhma, sons often chose a calling to devote their life to, that they could find purpose to carry them through the grief of loving an Ice Queen. It was said that, at the time, his superficial resemblance to a woman led to a mass panic, as the public interpreted his inability to inherit the throne as a sign of a weakening bloodline. Though his sister would spearhead wide cultural reform, the prince preferred the easy acceptance he found in the other islands.</p><p><em> Unless the reason he never returned was that he martyred himself… but why? He had to have known of the Ice Queen’s burden.... </em> Her mind drifted to Odette, who so cheerfully offered her life to any cause she thought could save her queen. <em> Are we doomed to watch the same tragedies repeat again and again? </em></p><p>
  <b>No. The Ice Queen exists that tragedy be undone. The Ice Queen exists that mankind be freed from the idol of Sin.</b>
</p><p>But there was no time for Xelha to dwell on the revelation, for Georg had successfully roused Kalas.</p><p>“Gramps…?” His voice was so groggy as to make his usual morning voice sound faked.</p><p>“Welcome back home, Kalas,” he replied, “Though next time maybe save your feud with <em> The Serpent’s Banner </em> until after you’ve visited your old man, hmm?” There was no reprimand in his voice, however.</p><p>Despite that, Kalas cast down his gaze, much as Xelha had done before. “You know I didn’t mean to leave you here alone. I just… I couldn’t….” His eyes lifted to fix on a small chair in the corner. He didn’t even sound sad. Just tired. So very tired.</p><p>Both his grandparents joined him, embracing him from either side.</p><p>“My dear boy, don’t mourn the nature of your heart,” Georg crooned, himself sounding weary.</p><p>Larikush hummed, first in agreement, then in a lullaby tune, all the more sweet for its throatiness.</p><p>Xelha rose just as he began singing and tiptoed to the guest bedding Georg had earlier laid out for her. Though she could still hear every word, it gave the illusion of the privacy the grieving family so deserved.</p><p>
  <em><span>Ovtethth zku lysuth en Azha</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Kkutu zku thys vtuudth ‘koa btoas ka btoas</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>O sezkut kern okovusth</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Ze thasb zku otao en kut doas</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Kut razzru esu koth runz kut</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Ze kysz as zku Notdrosu</span></em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><span>A le sez vsek an thesuloa thees</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>A’rr beas kut as kut thesb</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Neel ath thvotvu as Azha</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Zku thva-kavv kytsth zee resb</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Zku sabkz ath verl oth nrosuavu</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>The sosa zkasbth veyrl be ktesb</span></em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><span>Kyz ‘zar zkus A’s kuthalu aey</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Zkteybk zku verl osl nauslth osl kuoz</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Osl zku kkad-ravu kaslth en Azha</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Eyt rothz vodras’th nasor kruoz</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>Sa otsth otu kutu ze kerl aey</span></em>
</p><p>
  <em><span>'Zar A thyvvru ntes luozk’th zuoz</span></em>
</p>
<hr/><p>The gentle tap of wood on wood woke her before the sun could spill over the sill. </p><p>Xelha lay still for a moment longer, then quietly rolled to her feet and slunk after her quarry.</p><p>“Oh, Kalas,” she murmured to herself when they arrived. She lay a hand over her heart. It was just too much.</p><p>“Hey, Fee,” he said, almost as quietly. It nonetheless echoed through the dried, crumbling canal that housed his younger brother’s grave.</p><p>She was torn: continue to guard her summoner at the expense of his privacy? or abandon that which she had strayed from her destiny for?</p><p>Ultimately, she didn’t get the chance to decide, as Kalas left almost as soon as he came, striking wrathful tears from his eyes as he went.</p><p>Wetness trailed down her cheek, and she couldn’t be certain if she’d been splashed or had produced it herself.</p>
<hr/><p>Balancoire was no less dizzying than it had been the day prior. If anything, the rumors of the ducal heiress’ return made every road a pocket of chaos. With seemingly the entire population of the city gathering wherever Melodia could be seen heading, its titular illusions swelled to match.</p><p>Around the point a phantom crowd hung upside-down above the real citizenry, Xelha let her hand find Kalas’ and clenched her eyes shut.</p><p>And so she kept them until he squeezed and released her hand.</p><p>Before them loomed a massive red structure. At first she thought she was staring into the face of an absolutely mammoth scarab. It had two sets of compound eyes—one pink, one green—and tusks protruding from its plated mouth. It swelled with breaths she could not feel and seemed to zero in on her with its hypnotic gaze—</p><p>—and then the spell was broken, as its mouth—doors, they were doors—swung open to reveal a salmon-haired woman in a brightly striped dress dashing towards them.</p><p>“Milady! You’re safe!” the woman cried.</p><p>Melodia had started forward as soon as she’d appeared. “Peachy! It’s good to see you well again!”</p><p>They embraced. Then, chattering all the while on the news of the duchy, the two lead the way into what could only be Calbren Manor.</p><p>Inside was all white marble, columns and arches hugging the borders of a cathedral foyer. Olivine crisscrossed key walls so organically she initially thought it to be wallpaper. She wasn’t convinced it hadn’t grown in, so detailed were the engravings.</p><p>“Come right this way,” said Peachy, leading them up an understated staircase and to a pair of enormous doors.</p><p>Beyond them was a waiting room.</p><p>Stopping with a no-nonsense click of her heels, their guide gestured for them to sit.</p><p>“My name is Peachy,” she said, nodding to each in turn, “As seneschal, allow me to welcome you to the seat of the duchy! His Grace will see you momentarily.” Almost as soon as the formalities had left her lips, she continued in a relaxed, almost maternal tone, “Hopefully not before I can bring you all my famous tea platters!”</p><p>Her departure, though impeccably poised, carried an undeniable air of giddiness.</p><p>“Peachy’s teatime spread is to die for~♥” Melodia cooed, crossing her legs daintily, “The bread she bakes for her sandwiches is so airy it’s like feasting on clouds~! And her cakes…! I do so hope she’s made the green tea tiramisu~♥”</p><p>While Mizuti crowded Melodia for details, Xelha took the opportunity to slip out of her armchair and sidle up to Kalas.</p><p>“Thank you,” she said, blushing a little. At his blank face, she clarified, “For earlier… when you guided me. And yesterday too—”</p><p>He cut her off with a snort. “You’re giving me way too much credit. Besides, Papa would’ve been on my back about it if I didn’t help you.” But she could see his cheeks pink every-so-slightly.</p><p>“Oh! That reminds me!”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I met our grandfather. He helped me when I got lost.”</p><p>He narrowed his eyes; then, seemingly finding what he’d been looking for, groaned, “You saw all that then.”</p><p>
  <em> Kalas, croaking his brother’s name in utter misery. His grandparents, rocking him to no avail. Xelha, reminded of her own dead family. </em>
</p><p>“Um.” She bit her lip. “I—”</p><p>“...Whatever.” If he’d been going for unaffected, he missed it by a fair amount.</p><p><em> Then again </em> , she thought, reminded of the many miscommunications she’d witnessed, <em> maybe I just stare at his face more than most people. </em></p><p>Feeling like a stalker, she averted her attention.</p><p>From the crowd of onlookers, Melodia fluttered her fingers in a playful little wave.</p><p>“It’s not…! We’re not…!” stuttered Xelha, blood returning to her face with a vengeance.</p><p>Beside her, Kalas was squirming embarrassedly in his robes until he resembled a puffed-up owl more than a summoner.</p><p>Melodia was nearly beside herself with glee.</p><p>Larikush, too, looked on in amusement, though he at least made an attempt to hide it. Savyna, on the other hand, seemed less than impressed with having been saddled with them. And Guillo was studiously examining a nearby vase.</p><p>And then her view was cut off by a mass of red and blue.</p><p>“Xelha be very warm!” Mizuti declared, rolling fully over her until they were upright, “Be she sick?”</p><p>Four mouths opened simultaneously.</p><p>However, before any of them could tease her further, the door to the foyer reopened, Gibari holding it in place for Peachy to pass through, a large silver platter balanced in each hand. Ladekahn made up the rear, now dressed more appropriately for his station.</p><p>“Didn’t see you guys around here last night,” Gibari commented as he helped himself to a cake.</p><p>She noted that they were, in fact, the green tea tiramisu.</p><p>As they made smalltalk, it came to light that, while the king and his consort had been guests at the manor, the others had settled in at a tavern run by Trill’s family. The others excluding herself, Kalas, and Larikush, of course.</p><p>Melodia was beginning to look sinister. “My, I had no idea you could be so bold, Xelha~♥” She dissolved into peals of merry laughter.</p><p>“It’s not like that!” she insisted, jumping to her feet.</p><p>She only laughed harder.</p><p>“Nothing happened, so would you knock it off?” grumbled Kalas, lazily outstretching his winglet to flick her in the side.</p><p>It unbalanced Melodia, who fell facedown to the floor. Nevertheless, she seemed content to flex her legs coquettishly and purr, “Aside from Xelha claiming your grandfather as her own?”</p><p>Xelha frantically reviewed the past few minutes.</p><p>Again, Kalas came to her rescue. “Someday you’ll meet Gramps and he’ll motherhen you into submission too.”</p><p>“He’s a very nice man,” Xelha agreed, “It’s a wonder that Giacomo acts the way he does with him as a father.”</p><p>He shrugged. “According to Gramps, he wasn’t father material when Giacomo was born.”</p><p>Upon their twin looks of askance, Larikush sighed helplessly. “The Georg I used to know… it was as if there was a sheet of glass between his head and his heart.” He shuddered. “He was a man possessed, and, in the aftermath, even he was confused by his behavior.”</p><p>Mizuti, regaining interest in the conversation, hummed in thought. “Giacomo be he in the broken armor, yes?”</p><p>“‘Broken’...?” asked Larikush, “Ah, I suppose that’s one way to describe his exposed gut….”</p><p>Out of the corner of his mouth, Kalas whispered to her, “Gramps says Geldoblame designed it, but I think he’s just showing off.”</p><p><em> It </em> is <em> an odd choice for armor </em>. She’d assumed the missing piece was a taunt—a ‘here’s a weakness if you think you can take me’ sort of thing.</p><p>Mizuti continued, “And <em> he </em> be the son of Kalas’ Gramps?”</p><p>They’d hardly finished speaking before Kalas was snapping, “And Kalas be adopted, so don’t go calling him my dad.” Eyes rolling most spectacularly, he added, “He doesn’t need any encouragement.”</p><p>Guillo, finally drawn into the conversation, asked, “So, if I am understanding correctly, the reason for Commander Giacomo’s habitual disappearances is his pursuit of you, Kalas?”</p><p>“Wait, ‘disappearances’?” His head swiveled so fast she was surprised it didn’t crack. “I thought he was after the Labasu H’Qarl? You telling me all those times he came to annoy me, he was AWOL?!”</p><p>“Not quite,” said Savyna, frowning in concentration, “As a special operative myself, I can confirm that we had standing orders for your capture. However, I recall Giacomo having a reputation for unofficially delegating many of his assignments in order to pursue you.”</p><p>“Which he’s failed at miserably.” He was so smug it almost made Xelha want to hit him.</p><p>Gibari polished off a small mountain of sandwiches. “So he’s a loose cannon? What did you say his rank was?”</p><p>Guillo’s body language screamed flustered. “Uh, well, that is….”</p><p>They all turned back to Savyna.</p><p>“Hm,” she said unhelpfully.</p><p>“What were his duties, aside from seeking out Summoner Kalas?” asked Ladekahn, “Surely they would be indicative of his rank.”</p><p>What appeared to be sweat was soaking through Guillo’s headdress. “He commands the imperial flagship, the Battleship <em> Goldoba </em>.”</p><p>They all waited for him to continue.</p><p>He returned to studying the vase.</p><p>Savyna had even less to offer. “He’s a powerful warrior. I’m sure the Emperor has used him to turn the tide of battle.”</p><p>“I do recall him being a captain some decades ago,” mused Larikush, stroking his beard, “...Although, I also recall him being demoted and nearly court martialed due to his… overenthusiasm in pursuing High Summoner Sagi.”</p><p>Gibari leaned forward. “Blondie with a scythe?”</p><p>“Unless there were others matching your description….”</p><p>“Huh, I remember him stomping around the Cloud Passage.” He cocked his head. “Small world.”</p><p>“So what you’re saying is Giacomo’s always been this way and no one knows what he actually does,” stated Kalas, wrinkling his nose in annoyance, “Did he run around with his abs showing then, too?”</p><p>Talk gradually shifted to lighter topics, namely the hors d'oeuvres. Xelha found them too bland for her taste, but otherwise inoffensive. There was more pleasure to be had in watching the others barter for their preferred flavors.</p><p>Just as Gibari and Kalas were arm wrestling for the privilege of the last cucumber sandwich—spurred on by Melodia, who had long since eaten it—Peachy returned, this time to lead them to their audience.</p><p>Through the next set of doors, they followed a fine emerald rug—of Al [hsgdias] make, if she wasn’t mistaken, which would make it four centuries old at least!—to a veiled pavilion.</p><p>A pair of guards drew back the gossamer curtains to reveal Duke Calbren sitting upon his modest throne.</p><p>Calbren had a friendly face, which shone with warmth despite the evidence of his recent bout of illness. His skin was pale, waxy, and sunken in, an impression not helped by the suit that hung around his frail form. Every so often he gave a hacking cough that left dark speckles across his lips.</p><p>Worst of all were his wings: despite his obvious lack of energy, they remained materialized, as limp as the rest of him. A number of gummy yellow feathers lay strewn at his feet. As she watched, still another molted before her very eyes.</p><p>“Ah, Melodia….” His voice was barely audible. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this….”</p><p>The girl, trembling, moved forward as jerkily as a marionette. She all but fell into her grandfather’s lap in distress.</p><p>“Your Grace, you needn’t have granted us this audience,” said Ladekahn, hushed, “Or else we could have spared you the journey from your sickbed.”</p><p>“Nonsense…,” he gasped, “The risk of contamination is too great in my quarters. The heartwaste fever is not something to be trifled with.”</p><p>
  <em> ‘Heartwaste fever’? </em>
</p><p>Though Xelha was unfamiliar with the term, it seemed that all, even Mizuti, knew it too well.</p><p>“You don’t mean—?!” snarled Gibari, face twisted in fear-borne anger.</p><p>Calbren nodded wearily.</p><p>Apparently noticing her confusion, Ladekahn explained, “Heartwaste was—is—a deadly plague that ravaged Mira eight years ago. It attacks the heart and mind as well as the body; just as many died in a state of fugue as did succumb to their symptoms.”</p><p>Calbren buried a sob in Melodia’s hair. “The Grand Prince and Princess had strong hearts… strong wills… theirs was a lingering death. It wasn’t until their wings rotted away completely that they couldn’t fight it anymore….”</p><p>Despite her horror at the tragedy being relayed to her, part of Xelha’s mind was snagged onto a detail of what he’d said. <em> ‘Grand Prince’? ‘Grand Princess’? Those aren’t the courtesy titles befitting the children of a duke. And Melodia is addressed as ‘Her Grace’.... </em></p><p>A harsh cry from Calbren reminded her that it was no time to quibble over cultural discrepancies.</p><p>He was carding through his granddaughter’s hair. “It stole the color from my Melodia, but it couldn’t take her from me!” He devolved into a coughing fit, barely having the presence of mind to push her away before heaving up thick wads of phlegm all over himself.</p><p>With an efficiency that spoke of long practice, Peachy had him carted away back to his sickbed.</p><p>No one was eager to break the stricken silence.</p><p>No one, that is, except the Great Mizuti.</p><p>“Be you requiring heartenbrace?”</p><p>Melodia, wide-eyed, sniffled, “Wh-what?”</p><p>“Heartenbrace,” they said again, “The Great Mizuti isn’t an expert—not as an apothecary, that not be the Great Mizuti’s calling, you see!—but when heartwaste be visiting, heartenbrace be the cure!”</p><p>Peachy looked torn between hope and despair. “I’ve never heard of this ‘heartenbrace’. Where can it be found?”</p><p>Before Mizuti could answer, Larikush was laying a hand upon their shoulder. “I imagine it would be… difficult to retrieve it at this time, given its rarity and remote habitat.” He turned back to Peachy. “If I may, I gained my medical skills in a different environment from the attending physicians; I imagine we would have much to gain from one another.”</p><p>Knowing what she did of his skill level, Xelha very much doubted the gaining would be mutual.</p><p>Still, it was decided: Larikush and Mizuti would visit Calbren in his sickroom to make observations; Gibari, Ladekahn, and Melodia would adjure to Calbren’s study with Peachy to discuss recent events; and the rest would take the time to relax, freshen up, and enjoy the sights while they could. It was, after all, difficult to predict when Mira would be accessible to the rest of the islands.</p><p>Were it not for the strong-arming of several very proud manor staff, they most likely would have skipped the sight-seeing. Which would be a shame, as an entire wing was in use as a museum.</p><p>It held many strange and wondrous things: trinkets of Calbrens past, skeletons that matched no fauna she knew, old court dresses, forbidden books, art movements forgotten by the rest of the sky… it put her own palace’s exhibits to shame.</p><p>The final room was dedicated to duchal iconography.</p><p>Life-size statues carved from a single gemstone were posed every few feet. One she recognized as a depiction of a much younger Melodia. The ambitious piece had her balanced on the toes of a single foot, blades of tall field grasses creeping between them and catching on her skirt. Her arms and deep pockets were overflowing with a variety of wildflowers. As the material was a deep, blue-green alexandrite, at first glance she thought the plants were real.</p><p>The current duke’s statue was placed further on and showed him helping a child to walk. His was a canary yellow piece of jasper, though it was broken up by the gil scattered at his feet. According to Kalas, it was a tradition for visiting townsfolk to leave tokens by their ruler’s statue. Not only would the veneration grant luck to the one portrayed, the tokens would then be passed on to the poorest families.</p><p>(“You can’t rely on the other islands,” he’d said, shrugging as if unbothered, “It’s you versus whatever freakshow Mira phased into this time. We really only use gil when we’re visiting this dimension.”)</p><p>Statuary and weapons, clothing and journals. All were staged in small alcoves, between which hung marvellous paintings. She wasn’t surprised to note that they were largely attributed to artists from Reverence, though the style was less experimental than most of what she’d seen in the actual town.</p><p>One painting in particular caught her eye.</p><p>It featured a family of three. In the center was a baby with a crown of lilac flowers and a veil of turquoise ferns, as well as a lacy white gown. Their back was to the viewer, arms extended upwards towards the figure on the right.</p><p>He was a young man, beaming in obvious joy. His hair, a rich teal, he wore down to his jaw, which was itself covered in a short, tastefully groomed beard. His crown was of red roses and chrysanthemums, matching what could be seen of his skirt.</p><p>Leaning into both was one whom Xelha could only assume was the mother. Though she was engaged in an eyeroll worthy of Kalas, she, too, looked almost deliriously happy as she supported the baby with a pair of what appeared to be prosthetic arms. A glint of the same gold as her arms could be seen peeking out of a slit in her skirt and at her collar. Nestled in her ashen hair was her own circlet of blue hydrangeas and irises.</p><p>
  <b>Grand Highnesses Margaret, Melodia, and Marno</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Oil on canvas by Brunhilde Splatterwings</em> </b>
</p><p>“So these are Melodia’s parents, the Prince and Princess?” Xelha guessed, looking to their resident Miran.</p><p>Kalas, as per usual, shrugged carelessly. “I guess? They died right after we moved to Balancoire.”</p><p><em>Where did you live beforehand?</em> was on her tongue, but it died when Savyna pushed past them to stare, first at Marno, then Margaret.</p><p>“Savyna?” she asked instead.</p><p>The stoic woman did not face them when she said, certainty ringing in every word, “This is Sagi.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“Quit messing with us!” snapped Kalas.</p><p>She cast narrow eyes over her shoulder. “Put aside your assumptions. This is Sagi.”</p><p>“How can that be?” Guillo demanded, eyes flicking briefly to the painting, “The High Summoner died twenty years ago, as all do when the Final Aeon is called forth. For Lord Sagi to have survived… the implications are staggering!”</p><p>Finally straightening, she stated, as coolly as ever, “Speculation will get us nowhere. I know his face. This is Sagi.” And with that, she turned on her heel and walked with purpose back the way they came.</p><p>“Savyna!” Kalas called after her.</p><p>She slowed.</p><p>“...<em>A Chain in Twain</em>.” His face contorted, as if he’d swallowed a dust bunny by mistake. “Godspeed.”</p><p>She turned her head, lips curling in amusement. “Thanks.”</p><p>“You say that now...,” he replied dryly.</p><p>Her brow quirked. “Sounds like a challenge.”</p><p>“You could say that.” A familiar sly smirk slid into place. “Make it past page 50 and you can have my portion of the loot from our next battle.”</p><p>A huff of laughter. “I could live with that.”</p><p>Then she was gone.</p>
<hr/><p>He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but Kalas had gotten roped into guiding Xelha and Guillo through Merchants’ Way, a market specifically for those seeking curiosities. Many of the items available were mundane to outsiders, which made the reactions of the Mirans the main draw for tourists. Still, every so often they would stumble across something interesting—a set of unsettling porcelain dolls, <span>a mint condition primer</span>, a model of a beehive that opened up like a dollhouse, and even a crest of Diadem, prompting his guardians to pester him 'til they remembered that Melodia had taken charge of their own.</p><p>It was just as he was showing them how to use an antique camera that Melodia showed up.</p><p>“What a coincidence!” she gushed, holding out a small gift box, “I was looking all over for you, finally able to atone for my past clumsiness~♥~” To the others, she explained, “I broke a camera belonging to our dear Kalas shortly before our pilgrimage officially began.”</p><p>It was, of course, the latest model, just as promised.</p><p>At her urging, he raised it, robotically snapping a picture of her gleeful face. It slid smoothly into his waiting hand.</p><p>A respectable shot, though nothing that would fetch much gil.</p><p><em> Cold-hearted as always </em> , he sneered internally as he slid his thumb back and forth across the bottom. The captured moment only emphasized how happy she looked a mere three hours after her grandfather’s collapse. <em> Should’ve known it was all an act. </em></p><p>“That’s amazing!” It was Xelha, peering over his shoulder at the photo as if she’d never seen one before.</p><p>Unsure of how to react, he mumbled something noncommittal.</p><p>In the end, it was Guillo who brought up the oliphant in the room. “Your Grace, how fares Duke Calbren?”</p><p>Melodia had the gall to look downcast. “Not well, I’m afraid. Our comrades tell me that my grandfather is fading fast. Since we arrived, he’s suffered an enormous dip in his health.” Crocodile tears were welling in her eyes.</p><p>Xelha made an aborted attempt to speak.</p><p>The others didn’t notice, but Kalas did. And he was tired of waiting silently for her to slip.</p><p>“Something on your mind, Xelha?” he asked, feigning innocence.</p><p>“I—” she began, wide-eyed and resting a hand on her breast. </p><p>Guillo and Melodia were paying full attention. </p><p>
  <em> Wiggle your way out of this one. </em>
</p><p>Xelha bit her lip. The expression he’d once taken for uncertainty crossed her face, and he finally recognized it for what it truly was: calculation.</p><p><em> You’re just as much of a liar as the rest of us. </em> The thought came on more savagely than he could justify.</p><p>Apparently realizing she’d have to answer one way or another, Xelha’s jaw set in determination. “We don’t have a safe way of returning to the Earth, so it doesn’t make sense for us to go after the heartenbrace… but if it survived under the Taintclouds then surely there’s some to be found in the Sky?”</p><p>“Xelha is right!” Guillo was the most excited he’d ever seen him. “With Mizuti, a Child of the Earth, among us, continuing our pilgrimage should provide us with an efficient means of seeking it here in the Sky!”</p><p>“And in the meantime Peachy can try communicating with the Earth,” Xelha added.</p><p>Mentioning the pilgrimage was all the segway Melodia needed. Clapping lightly, she exclaimed, “Wonderful~♥~! I’m so happy I don’t have to choose between Grandfather and Kalas! Especially when Peachy went to such lengths to gather information on Anima!”</p><p>Audibly frowning, Guillo stated glumly, “It may take some time to find the others, seeing as how we split up….”</p><p>“Not to worry~♥~!” she all but sang back, “Believe it or not, it’s to our advantage to spread out~!”</p><p>He snorted. <em> And just who’s included in that ‘our’? </em></p><p>According to Melodia’s intel, Anima, like Mira itself, wasn’t fond of staying tied to one location. The associated Chamber of the Fayth often skimmed across the land or even flew above it. The tried-and-true method of catching it was to post sentries across the countryside and pray one of them caught sight of it. There were tales of summoners waiting months for a sentry to send up a signal flare.</p><p>Larikush, Mizuti, and Savyna had been ‘informed by a messenger’ to spread out in Parnasse, Nekton, and the gaggle of smaller villages on the way to Balancoire.</p><p>Balancoire, of course, would belong to its heir.</p><p>Kalas was assigned to the top of Mira’s containment shield, though he would be very surprised if he set a single foot near it.</p><p>Guillo was sent to Reverence, where ideally the locals would keep him so bamboozled he wouldn’t think to question anything.</p><p>And Xelha.</p><p>Poor Xelha they led to the Mystical Garden, Detourne. Because of everyone, she was the most likely to snoop, which would be hard to do if she was occupied trying to understand how gravity came to be reversed.</p><p>Sure enough, as soon as they returned to the capital, Melodia was whisking them away to the manor. More specifically to the first room of the Museum Wing, where she revealed a trap door in the floor.</p><p>“Smells like a sewer,” he groaned.</p><p>“Astute as always, Kalas,” she giggled back.</p><p>Already he had the beginnings of a migraine. “Let’s just get this party started.”</p><p>Fortunately for him, the trek through the sewer was blessedly short and not altogether terrible, once he got used to the smell.</p><p>Less fortunate was what waited beyond.</p><p>Something few realized about Mira was that under the culturally varied surface it was just a pile of very pretty rock. He’d always assumed it was a single solid core.</p><p>As it turned out, some sadist had found a cave.</p><p>The image of the path he’d need to take was picked up by the ever-so-reflective facets of the literal crystal cave, fractured and distorted until he couldn’t piece out what was directly in front of him and what was smoke and mirrors.</p><p>The final chamber had but four mirrors—true, manmade mirrors as opposed to the hell he’d just trotted through like a scared fluffpup. They surrounded what was clearly a fayth’s tablet embedded in the floor.</p><p>“I’ve waited so long to see you do this,” Melodia purred, stepping to the side to allow him space.</p><p>Kalas huffed back. Then, ready to claim his aeon and leave the temple forever, he reached into his robe and cupped Melodia’s pendant in his left hand.</p><p>Without the heavy fur to dampen the glow, its activation left impressions of light seared into his eyes long after it had faded.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b><em>W̃͐͒͂̈́oͣͫ̍ͯ͑ͯ̃eͤ̓ͬ-̒ͣ̆̂̾ͥl͐͊͐̽ȃ̿̃ͥͮ̾dͬ̔eͪ̔ͨ̈͐ͯ̚n Ch̃̃̄͑̇i̾͋͐͆̒ld̊ͤ̏̽ͯ…̒̎ͦ̓̚.̂ͣͣ̏̊</em> </b>
</p><p>Kalas instinctively went for his staff.</p><p>
  <em> Wait. It’s only Melodia down here with me. </em>
</p><p>And so he threw his robe to the side in favor of his wings and the Sword of the Heavens.</p><p>The fiend guarding the fourth Malperciac aeon was already melting into existence.</p><p>He smirked. “Time to party.”</p><p>
  <em> Me and Mels… just like old times. </em>
</p><p>The fiend appeared as an enormous ceremonial mask flanked by a pair of paper birds.</p><p>
  <em> Three on two… I won’t even work up an appetite! </em>
</p><p>Kalas launched upward.</p><p>As expected, the birds gave chase.</p><p>They were quick, he would give them that, and their beaks stung horribly when they managed to find their mark. But an almost lazy swing cut through them as if they were nothing but hot air.</p><p>And what remained of them was completely shredded as Melodia somersaulted through the air, wings and shields acting like saw blades.</p><p>He ducked under her carnage.</p><p>
  <em> BZZT! </em>
</p><p>Grunting in pain from the unexpected attack, he turned to see the mask opening up along a seam down the center of its face. Beneath, a pair of eyes crackled with electricity.</p><p>“Melodia!”</p><p>“I like how you think~♥~”</p><p>Before the fiend could blink (or do whatever it was planning), Kalas had his sword buried in one eye. Melodia followed soon after in the other, twisting her arm as it pulsed with blood red energy.</p><p>He tore himself free with a small cyclone, shattering away large chunks of wood in the process.</p><p>Melodia, meanwhile, was plunging her other arm into the eye she’d already pierced.</p><p>He rolled his own. “Overkill much?”</p><p>She answered with a feral grin and a howl:</p><p>“<em> FIRAGA BURST! </em>”</p><p>And that was that.</p><p>He was still riding high on their victory when they emerged into the museum.</p><p>“Milord?! Your Grace?! What happened here?! You’re bleeding!”</p><p>His mood plummeted as he read the guard’s body language. <em> Earnest young idealist type </em> , he guessed with disgust <em> , Probably going to yap about it to all the wrong people. </em></p><p>Melodia was already stepping forward. “Nothing happened, of course!” Her voice had taken on the seductive quality that indicated she was exerting her arcane powers against the guard’s will. “Why don’t you take some time to relax and enjoy some tea? You all work so hard to keep us safe~♥~”</p><p>“Nnnnoooo,” they moaned, clutching their head. </p><p>“Pretty impressive that you’re resisting,” he cajoled, enjoying Melodia getting her comeuppance, “Might as well give it a rest though—Her Grace will be a step closer to her dreams, you get to kick back and relax, and we all get to <em> forget </em> this ever happened.” He grinned at the terror in their eyes. “Everybody wins.”</p><p>“I… I don’t… under—” They crumpled to their knees. “You… the raven halfer… what have you dragged our Lady Melodia…?”</p><p>His humor vanished. “Mels, don’t play with your food.”</p><p>But it soon became apparent that she <em> wasn’t </em>. Melodia, manipulator extraordinaire, was struggling with controlling one of her own servants. She was leaning fully into the spell.</p><p>Just when it seemed their resolve would falter, the guard silently screamed, wings blossoming in defense against the attack. Enormous, formless wings that flickered like lightning hidden behind clouds. It had a hypnotic pattern to it, akin to watching the strings of a guitar during a reel.</p><p>Cursing, Melodia broke off the connection, letting the guard fall to the floor. “Kalas!” she snapped, “This isn’t a good place for an extended conversation, don’t you agree?”</p><p>Catching her meaning, he hefted their prisoner over a shoulder and descended back into the sewer.</p><p>“Help! <em> HELP! </em>” they shrieked, but the trap door had already closed. The only souls that could react to their alarm were the hograts frolicking in the water, which scampered off, squeaking their own warnings.</p><p>More composed with the threat temporarily neutralized, Melodia tapped her lip with a finger. “What to do, what to do…,” she mused.</p><p>“Your Grace, why are you doing this?!”</p><p>“Well, it’s simple really.” With a cute little twirl, she was directing the full force of her winsome smile at them. “We’re at far too delicate a stage to let an interloper go blabbing a misleading story.”</p><p>The guard protested, but she was already turning to him. “Kalas, be a dear and answer our loyal defender’s question.”</p><p>He cocked an eyebrow at her.</p><p>She nodded encouragingly.</p><p>Sighing, he gathered the energy to summon. <em> If she wants to scare them into silence, why should I care? </em></p><p>The guard noticed and scrambled away, yelling, “I’ve heard about you, Kalas! You ate Lady Melodia’s heart, didn’t you?! Wanted so bad to be whole, you conniving—you rabid—” </p><p>They continued babbling random insults as he slowly walked forward, each making hatred churn deep in his navel.</p><p>He waited until they had entered the crystalline maze, too panicked and disoriented to run any further, before spitting, “‘Conniving’? ‘Rabid’? Make up your mind.”</p><p>“A twisted mongrel like you should have been drowned at birth—!”</p><p>“Not too bright, saying that to the <em> filthy fucking halfer </em> that could kill you right now.”</p><p>The guard’s eyes widened in animalistic rage. They rushed forward—</p><p>“<em> CHE, REVEAL YOURSELF! </em>”</p><p>A rumble.</p><p>Dust stirring. Clumping.</p><p>Chains sprang into existence with crushing force around his ribs, links forming in concert with a skeleton from the dust. Dull plates sprouted from the back of Che’s spine as it grew.</p><p>Within seconds, the skeleton of an armadillo filled the entirety of the chamber.</p><p>The guard stopped in their tracks and gaped.</p><p>He was dimly aware of Melodia sashaying into what little space remained. With a delicate finger under their chin, she lifted the guard’s face to meet their eyes. She didn’t stop there; she rose higher and higher until she was hovering above them, forcing them to stand on the very tips of their toes.</p><p>“Let’s be friends now, shall we?”</p><p>Her power surging back to the surface seemed to stir them out of their stupor. Wings desperately beating to create some distance, their eyes locked with Kalas’.</p><p>“<em> GIVE HER BACK! </em>”</p><p>They dove.</p><p>Without thinking, Kalas whirled out of the way, catching and trapping them in the aeon’s chains.</p><p>“<em> Let me go, let me go, LET ME GO! </em>”</p><p>“<em> SHUT UP! </em>”</p><p>The more the guard struggled, the tighter Kalas pulled the chains.</p><p>A gurgle.</p><p>And the guard cursed him no more.</p><p>Kalas gasped for breath.</p><p>
  <em> Clap. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clap. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clap. </em>
</p><p>“For a moment, I was worried you wouldn’t do the right thing,” said Melodia, draping an affectionate arm around his shoulders, “At long last, you’ve empowered yourself against these human parasites.”</p><p>Horror spiked.</p><p>The guard—no, the <em> corpse </em>—lay where dropped from the disappearing chains. It landed spreadeagled, ribs jutting unnaturally in places. Blood leaked from its popped jaw.</p><p>“No…,” Kalas whispered, “No, no, no….”</p><p>Melodia easily accepted the weight that slumped into her. Running fingers through his hair, she murmured comfortingly, “Oh, Kalas, don’t you see? What if it had been Fee here with you?”</p><p>Fee.</p><p>Fee, who had no wings.</p><p>“Yes, you understand, don’t you? Why I call this lowly creature a parasite? Don’t think of it as murder; truthfully you’re a doctor, destroying a disease that targets those who were born disadvantaged.”</p><p>Kalas, his single wing an omen of death.</p><p>Fee, seen as an animal for his lack.</p><p>Even Mayfee, a child who lost parts of herself to fiends.</p><p>“I, for one, am relieved to know that this hatemonger won’t have access to my poor grandfather anymore.”</p><p>Calbren, who was losing his wings.</p><p>Slowly, Kalas’ breathing steadied.</p><p>He’d done the right thing. And even if he hadn’t, it was too late to turn back.</p><p>“What,” he started, hoarse, “do we do about the body?”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> “Anima rejected me,” Kalas said flatly. He would say no more, returning to his grandparents’ house and turning away all visitors. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Perhaps we should turn our eyes towards Ifrit for now?” Melodia suggested, to lukewarm approval. </em>
</p><p>It was no use. Xelha simply could not get to sleep.</p><p>And that was how she found herself talking to Fee.</p><p>“I just wish I knew how to help him.” She played with the stem of a flower she’d laid in his name.</p><p>“Anyone ever tell you you’re an incurable busybody?”</p><p>It was Kalas, watching from atop the wall of the canal. A waxing crescent lay perfectly behind him, giving the impression of a single white wing.</p><p>In an instant, her mood was soured as she remembered the bullies she’d met her first day in the city. <em> They would want that… for Kalas to be a meek dove…. </em></p><p>Noticing her expression, he pulled one of his own. “Sorry, didn’t know you hated my guts.”</p><p>“No, no,” she said quickly, patting the ground next to her, “You just reminded me of some unpleasant people I met the other day.” Realizing it sounded as if she associated <em> him </em> with unpleasantness, she added, “They kept saying I shouldn’t trust you because of your wings.”</p><p>His eyes, when he was close enough for her to see, were haunted. Still, he readily grumbled in his semi-joking way, “Typical.”</p><p>“They were wrong, you know.”</p><p>His eyes briefly widened, then his face was once again blank. “You sure about that?” He sounded as if he’d wanted to come across as teasing but couldn’t muster the energy.</p><p>Xelha took a grounding breath before meeting his weary gaze. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” She tried to project every fond thought she’d ever had of him in that moment as she opened her arms to him.</p><p>For an instant, his mask fell, and his face was scabbed over with torment.</p><p>She spread them wider.</p><p>Before she knew it, she was nodding off, comforted to be protecting the dreams of her secret love.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 14/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 5/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. In Which Distaste Need Be Misplaced</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crunch.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With but that single footstep, Kalas snapped awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Thesuzkasb’th sez tabkz kutu.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ayme. And where there’s an Ayme….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aeu’wu wunuwwasj ze zqu uszawura zee hesbusausz hawhyskzoshuk as kqahq ku’bu hoypqz yt ze eyw twua.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...and there’s the man himself.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kalas didn’t waste time wondering how they’d gotten into the city undetected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Druothu! Ku’th o thradduta esu, kyz zkutu’th se koa zku levth keyrl ruz kas droa koaz ravu zkath.</span>” As Folon made his presence known, he walked boldly up to Kalas and patted whatever it was he’d fallen asleep against. “<span>An aey othv su, ku thsyvv eyz ze buz thesu voseelrasb as kazk zku sezk.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep inside him, Kalas felt the Malperciac aeons stir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Oq, auk, zqu pawr</span>,” Giacomo drawled, armor clinking closer, “<span>Zohu quw ok kurr—A qobu kesu vyukzaesk zqoz owu rasb ebuwlyu….</span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>F͛̆o͋͋e̒̀͐.̾̿̑͌..ͤͦ͐̃̊.͒ͤ̑̉̽̚ ͆̌͊F͆͌̈́ͧͧoe̾̉.̃ͣ.̃̎̿ͪ.̓͗̄̈́ͩ̃.͑</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all his will not to jump. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What was that voice?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>͆ͯͭ̃̏͑͐</span>
  </em>
  <strong>K̒̆í̿ͮll̓͆ͫ!ͮ͌ ͑͂̅Kͯ͂ͫi̽̍͑̽͆̓̒lͮl̾̎!</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this… Malpercio?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>HOLIAGA FLARE!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>͋ͯͯ̏̍̌̒E͌E̅̍͊̐̽̓E͆̅͌Ẽ̈́E̋͊̓ͣͦ̿͐E͑ͭĖ͋ͮ̾ͦͮEͨ̿ͬͣ͛͑͌Ė̈̋ͨ͌ͨ̏Ė͋E̅͆ͦ́̀̀ͦEͦ̎̊!</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>̄̊̋̇̇ͫ</span>
  </em>
  <strong>T̿ͨͣh̓̎͆̈ͮ͐e̐ͯ̓͒͛ͮ ͯ̾̏͛̌͐͌w̌ͧ̈́̍̚i͊̊tͪͦͯ̈́̚c͆͛hͧ.̉̉̈́.̉̔̃̽̍́͛.!͊͌̓ ͫ̅̌̃Tͧ̐ͨ̚ḧͪ̋ͦ̿̾͂eͮ̃ ̔ͨw̋̐̃̇ͩi̊͛͑̆͑ͮ̇t̆̅͌ͬ̎c̿͗̎̓̈́̎̎h̋ͭ̀ͯ̏.̿͌..!͌͗͊ͩ</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Fighting past a sudden burning in his gut, Kalas leapt to his feet and drew the Sword of the Heavens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kneeling where they’d fallen asleep, Xelha was wide-eyed and frantic but still kept her wand trained on the trio of Al Fhard. “Kalas, you said you didn’t get the aeon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you!” she fumed, throwing Folon back with a torrent of water when he came too close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so sure anymore, are you?” he muttered. To his surprise, her rejection stung.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When did I start caring what Xelha thinks?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, once he knew he had an audience, Giacomo couldn’t resist the urge to gloat. He chuckled wickedly and said, “Now, now, my boy, that’s no way to treat a paramour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to laugh it off when he spied Xelha’s all-consuming blush. So focused was he on the implications that he missed whatever back-and-forth the two shared. No, taking in the molten gold of her eyes and the dawning realization of just how many times he’d seen her cheeks redden before was far more interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She actually likes me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Of that there could be no doubt, parsing through their interactions since the very beginning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>...Why? And when?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The timeline, once he looked at the big picture, was baffling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s always acted this way, since the day we met. So how…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely avoided a winglet-powered kick to the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Loaltuosasb kkus aey thkeyrl ku nabkzasb?</span>” taunted Ayme, footwork so fast he could barely keep up, “<span>Giacomo’th ortuola sythka useybk—les’z be sovasb kas o btoslnozkut es yth, val!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a roundhouse nearly got him in the ear, Kalas desperately pushed off from the ground. He rose just high enough to give his groundward swing a little power, setting off a hot blast of power when he hit his target.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ko! Rethz aeyt ulbu, Kalas</span>?” she crowed, unscathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, until she swallowed boiling steam let off from his true target: a geyser Xelha had generated taking on the other two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trusting Balancoire to protect one of her own, he took off blindly into the deeper part of the channel, a pattering along the walls announcing Xelha’s arrival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the steam cleared enough for him to risk a glance, it was clear that she was suffering. Not only had she no doubt overdrawn her mana, her wings, having been subjected to the full effect of their joint attack, were barely keeping her aloft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Xelha.” He slowed, trying to pass her a potion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, motioned him along as she pulled abreast. “I’m not hurt, they’re just waterlogged. Flying is the best thing for them right now.” Half of the problem seemed to be the wings getting stuck together. She flapped them rapidly, succeeding in little more than generating a buzz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was already picking up on the subtle signs of pursuit. “We’ve got company. Hop onboard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, definitely a crush</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, watching her reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, she clambered onto his middle back, knees clinched at his sides as she preened her soaked scales. She hunched in close to his shoulders, far enough not to interfere with his wingbeats or her own grooming, but not so far as to increase drag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t we be heading towards Calbren’s manor? We can’t fight them off alone.” She whispered it directly in his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blamed his shivering spine on oversensitivity—she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> just laid out her cards, at least where her feelings for him were concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the new sensations, he replied, “That’s the plan. I want to lose them in the canals first.” He knew them well, much better than even the life-long residents. “Besides, this city has a way of taking care of business all on her own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘If the city misleads, you’ll find your true needs’,” she chanted, sounding so pleased with herself that he couldn’t find it in him to correct the misquote.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said instead, “And if you thought the streets were confusing….” It was in casting a sly glance over his shoulder that he caught sight of the barest hint of heat distortion. “Xelha, give us cover!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With no questions asked, she’d erected a thick wall of ice directly behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost there,” he muttered to himself, skirting a bend and landing them in the sewer proper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t the splashing give us away?” asked Xelha, pinching her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First time in a sewer?” he laughed, doing the same, “It only sounds loud because you’re the one making it. Trust me, no one’s going to hear us in all this.” He jerked his head towards the labyrinth of water gates and pipes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than once Kalas had hidden from bullies in there. Though the ones currently filling the ‘bully’ role were a little more intimidating than those of his youth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding hands so as not to get separated, they ventured in further still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time they encountered a stream of fresher water, he stored some in a magnus. It was an Al Zhani trick he’d learned from Papa: as time passed, the water quality would degrade, acting as a makeshift timepiece. It was less helpful outside of the desert, where navigation largely amounted to knowing which direction to head and for how long, but he’d rather know how long they’d been down there than not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At what he thought was roughly the three hour mark, they took refuge in a wide pipe, both to rest and to have their belated breakfast. Or they would have, if either had brought a food magnus aside from Xelha’s bananas, which had gone bad while they were traipsing around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, a hograt scampered past, squealing in fright. It was soon followed by what appeared to be its entire pack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hoping the weak illusions of his mirage weed circlet would be enough to hide him, Kalas carefully peeked out into the chamber they’d just left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayme, who was in the lead, called them to a halt. “<span>Koaz. Az davvul yd oboas. Thtesb zkath zasu</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey thytu? Orr A vos thsurr ath sarluk osl lysb</span>,” said Folon, pinching his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Giacomo was showing discomfort. While the other two spoke, he was busying himself flicking dark specks from the planes of his exposed abs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Kalas blamed him. Just the thought of his precious robes getting splashed with an entire city’s worth of excrement made him want to throttle Giacomo for forcing them into the sewers in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turned back to Xelha, her wand was at the ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t let them take you,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that he had an idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes narrowing, she grabbed his sleeve. “Kalas, no!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How else are we getting into Alfard?” He grinned lazily, though he felt clammy down to his gut. “You’ll get out of here and let the others know, right, Xelha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glared but nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding back, he groped in the darkness for something to throw.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here goes nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He threw the first thing that came to hand (and wasn’t also a hograt).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his dismay, it was neither a rock nor a stool that flew in a graceful arc towards Ayme’s head. She turned just in time to get a rotten banana in the eye. While Folon was content to point and laugh, Giacomo stalked forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your games are trying my patience today, Kalas,” he all but growled, “If you don’t come quietly, I can’t guarantee you won’t spend the entire flight in the infirmary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas made sure to hold in his eyeroll until he was close enough he was sure they’d see it. “Touchy,” he said as snidely as possible. And, because he knew it would piss him off to no end, he nodded at Giacomo’s heavily smeared abs and added, “You missed a spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where girl?” spat Ayme, blocking off his rear escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, your Yevonese has gotten better!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A pity the same can’t be said of your Al Fhard,” Giacomo cut in, grabbing him by the elbow and escorting him none-too-gently back the way they’d come, “<span>Ku hos luor kazq quw rozuw; Qak Udhurrusha’k seel keywk ja zqu sasyzu.</span>”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Here again,” Kalas commented blandly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Here’ being alone in a locked room with Giacomo and a stack of primers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His not-father, having absented himself for half the day upon their embarkment, had returned with an early dinner and <span>study materials</span>. Most notably, he had removed his usual armor in favor of more sensible leathers over an olive green tunic. Kalas was surprised to see what he had hidden under his helmet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo noticed him staring. “My mother was of Diademi blood.” He ran his fingers down a pinch of his long golden hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No one ever mentioned a ‘Grams’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Just as the frustration at another lie, another slight, was welling up, his better sense argued back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course he has a mother. Why the hell wouldn’t he? Fee and I were the only…. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He bit his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was an escaped summoner,” Giacomo continued, letting his hair be and lifting the lid off the dinner tray, “Theirs wasn’t a union of love; desert nights are cold, as you’ll soon discover, and it took some time for her to arrange for her rescue. I have my doubts as to if the old man ever bothered to learn her name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas groaned and threw his legs over the arm of the arm. “Don’t go using up all your monologues in one go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo, the shitlord, merely smirked and extended a roll towards him. “And here I thought you would enjoy twisting the knife, a bit of petty vengeance for your capture.” He paused, glowering at the untouched bread. “Eat while you can, boy. The trials that await you will take all your strength and then some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first instinct was to lash out, make his captor regret not weakening him while he could. It fizzled away into a savage kind of glee. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s how you want to play it, huh, Giacomo? Then I guess it’s time to party!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> know about it,” he said in his best impression of Melodia at her most catty, “You haven’t exactly been around for me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Kalas punctuated his jab by ripping the roll out of his grasp and tearing off half with his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tutting, Giacomo turned back to his own plate, which he filled up with arayes. “I hope you remember your manners when you appear before the Emperor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you don’t want to see the look on his face too,” he shot back. If forced to pick a ‘favorite’ part of being a wanted man, annoying Geldoblame was probably it. He was the perfect mix of prissy and hypocritical to take nearly anything as an insult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo merely gave a pointed look at his empty plate and repeated, “Manners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas eyed him critically. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not going to let me off the hook, are you, ‘Dad’? You’re more of a nag than Papa.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Still, he spooned some of the more familiar looking foods onto his plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I take it Larikush still goes heavy on the spice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed the line of context to the thick, savory stew he’d taken his first bite of. He’d chosen it specifically because he recognized the odor profile, which he’d always assumed was the basic recipe. Then again, the only other person he’d ever seen prepare it was Trill’s dad, who probably learned from his grandpapa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Picturing the esteemed Doctor Larikush teaching Giacomo had him snorting. “Well, what do you know? Finally, a family recipe that doesn’t make messed-up babies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo laughed, which honestly took all the fun out of it. “Why, Kalas, I didn’t realize you’d begun thinking of me as family! I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>touched</span>
  </em>
  <span>~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> touched all right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Then you’ll be relieved to hear that the Empire has excellent health services.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ll be good, thanks. Just so long as you’re not expecting a hug.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naturally. I know you don’t care to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>touched</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He caught himself on the verge of a smile and quickly scowled it away, lifting his bowl so he could hide behind it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Giacomo was back in view, he seemed to be going for a ‘paternal concern’ vibe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” snapped Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arrogant, narcissistic Giacomo he could handle. Wanna-be deadbeat dad Giacomo he could handle. Playful homemaker—for who else could have cooked if it was really Papa’s recipe?—was not something he was prepared for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stung at a place deep inside that still remembered the day Papa left them. For awhile he’d refused to call him by any name other than ‘Larikush’, even when it made the rest of their small family hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It found the gangrenous wound of a childhood spent as an outcast and dug its fingers under the lips. Gramps, Papa, Fee—none of them had been the type to kick up a fuss at the way they were othered, whether it be out of compassion for ignorance, avoidance of further scrutiny, or the certainty of there being more effective forums for change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It prodded at his bruised faith in both his grandfathers, who had once again hidden information from him. Information </span>
  <em>
    <span>about</span>
  </em>
  <span> him—his body, his purpose, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>soul</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was furious—no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>guiltridden</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he was apparently </span>
  <em>
    <span>so frail and untrustworthy</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It would serve them all right if I went along with whatever Geldoblame wants.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stay calm, you idiot, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re</span>
  <em>
    <span> supposed to be baiting </span>
  </em>
  <span>him!</span>
  <em>
    <span> No wonder everyone thinks you’re worthless; you can’t even pull off fucking small talk without falling to pieces! How pathetic can you get?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boy,” Giacomo began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never a good sign. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t help but notice that your understanding of the Emperor’s interest in you is incomplete.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he were more honest with himself, he’d admit that the spike of anger was really towards himself for wearing his feelings on his sleeve. But he wasn’t, and so he spat, “If you’re looking to make some grand reveal, you’re a little late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So then you don’t want a briefing before we make contact with our motherland?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That bastard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Giacomo’s urging, Kalas returned to eating. The insistence soon made sense, for as Giacomo revealed more and more of the truth that had been hidden from him, his appetite fled entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a long, still moment between Giacomo’s conclusion and his own reply. And when he was able to break into the eye of his emotional tempest, all he could say was, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Kalas.” The words oozed from his tormenter’s tongue. “I know you don’t believe me, but I really do want what’s best for you.” When Kalas stayed silent, he continued, “I only wish I could have told you when you were younger, so that this day wouldn’t be so—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get. Out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a testament to the earth-shattering nature of the day’s revelations, Giacomo simply nodded and swept out of the room with the uneaten food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas, meanwhile, sunk to the floor and buried his face in his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet still Giacomo’s words raced endlessly around his mind, bowling over all thoughts before they could become coherent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of the lies, the machinations, the neverending parade of vultures intent on tearing into his sense of self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But mostly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mostly?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was tired.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“<span>Kua. Ktoz.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignored her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey beasb ze sedu orr loa? Vesu es, kkutu’th zkoz natu en aeytth? Az’th se nys an aey’tu bythz beasb ze thaz zkutu.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ripped himself away from her grip, losing a chunk of ray-moo fur in the process. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ybk. Ruz su vsek kkus aey’tu tuola ze thzed kuasb o setes.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glared at the map of Alfard.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“<span>Vyaz az, val—zkath ath thzydal osl aey vsek az.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time he could remember, Kalas looked at Folon—</span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> looked—and saw the exhaustion screaming from every pore of his chalk-white skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, “Why should I—” He locked his jaw shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Folon, for once not being obnoxious, met his eyes boldly but unchallengingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only pissed him off more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?! Anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>else</span>
  </em>
  <span> you want from me?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything in him screamed to tear down that godforsaken map, but he was too angry to move. With great effort, he forced himself to stalk to the other end of the room, where hung a new set of summoner’s robes. Al Fhard robes. And <span>another fucking primer</span> sticking out of the pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t have a problem with summoners when they’re your pets, huh?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does any of this have to do with me?” It came out a hiss. Whipping around, he bellowed straight into Folon’s stupidly calm face, “Why me?! Islands may fall, nations may perish, and what does </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it have to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>ask</span>
  <em>
    <span> to be born! I didn’t ask for any of this—all I wanted was to live with Gramps and Fee and Papa! But they were all just jerking me around too! None of them wanted me to make my own choice; they thought I was too stupid to choose what </span>
  </em>
  <span>they </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now Geldoblame wants me to—to fix all his messes?! Give me a break!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Papa never trusted me, Giacomo thinks he can bribe his way into my life, Savyna knew and—what? Wanted me to just obey her without question? Every last one of them wants me to go on </span>
  </em>
  <span>their</span>
  <em>
    <span> pilgrimage </span>
  </em>
  <span>their</span>
  <em>
    <span> way! Especially Xelha!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who the fuck is Xelha? Who the fuck is Xelha and what the fuck does she want with me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s the biggest liar of all of them! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Except Melodia. Who, of course, was also using him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” he demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Folon raised an eyebrow impossibly high.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Folon… Al Fhard… jya Kalas?</span>” he tried, well aware that it was a nonsense phrase and not caring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Folon rolled his eyes, muttering, “<span>Kek leuth o bya kazk the syvk suoz as kath kuol nasl tees net ouesth?</span>” He summoned his bladed whip, carelessly tossing Kalas the magnus holding the Sword of the Heavens. “<span>Aey kuzzut sovu zkath aszututhzasb, Kalas!</span>”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>By the time Ayme showed up to relieve Folon, Kalas, having physically vented to the point of numbness, had long since dove headfirst into <span>the primers</span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surveying the myriad scrapes on both the walls and their skin, she sighed. “<span>Ruofasb su eyz en zku nys?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ka orr suosth, sudz zasu ku suulth o korv, ku’th aeytth</span>,” Folon said back, sarcasm on full blast, “<span>Les’z netbuz ze davv yd kath thkaz</span>.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Ayme.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kkoz?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A jol aey. A jol Folon.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey orthe ‘kol Al Fhard'. ...Kyz aey 'beel Kalas</span>'.” A pause. A grimace. “Thank. Try.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>By the time Kalas saw Giacomo again, his feelings were adequately compartmentalized, to be processed… probably never, if he was being honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A good thing, then, that he, too, was a liar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of heeding his brain-Larikush in his attempts to get him to cope appropriately, Kalas surveyed the landing dock. It took a moment for his memory to click into place. “Home sweet home,” he drawled, “So, there anything left of Greater Mintaka or did Geldoblame eat it all?” The last time he’d been so deep into Al Fhard territory, the palace had displaced about half the city in its expansion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the background he saw Folon mouth the handful of words he recognized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo gave an aggravated, particularly huffy sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better not have dumped stuff in my old room,” he said, more to push buttons than because he cared. His ‘old room’ was, after all, merely whatever operating room happened to be close by and empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And they wonder why I turned out this way</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he snickered, thinking back on the many, many ‘toys’ he’d claimed that, by all rights, should have killed him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Speaking of, I wonder what they did with my scalpel collection?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently Folon had managed to translate, for he was guffawing whilst Ayme pestered him for clarification on some of the details.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BA-RAM-PA-PA-PAM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At the first note of the trumpets, the previously casual Al Fhard stiffened to attention. From a corner of the hangar rolled an armored transport vehicle. A small window opened on the side. From it, parting the frilly rose curtains within, came a well-manicured—if ludicrously over-adorned—hand. It made a beckoning gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As was usually the case when threatened with the company of his creator-by-proxy, the time spent dragging his heels to do so went by seemingly in seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas,” sniffed Emperor Geldoblame, looking more displeased than usual to see him, “<span>A ewluwul zqoz qu ju lwukkul as o sossuw junazzasp zqu weru qak ustuwew qok pwoszul qas osl </span>
  <em>
    <span>zqak</span>
  </em>
  <span> ak qek aey twukusz qas ze su?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Geldoblame’s eyes never left Kalas, it was Giacomo who answered. “Unfortunately, there was no time, Your Excellency. We were delayed in Mira by the White Flame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame scoffed but seemed to accept the answer. “Bah! That upstart has forgotten his place.” His attention turned to a bowl of succulent grapes. “So quick are the youth to deny old debts.” Back to scowling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sarcastic reply on the tip of his tongue, Kalas recalled his earlier revelations. He swallowed his glare and softly asked, “So, what does Ladekahn owe you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently he didn’t modulate his affect as well as he thought he had, for Giacomo, under the guise of pushing back a loose lock of hair, subtly massaged the bridge of his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch your tone, boy!” Geldoblame, nails clacking together as he snapped for a servant to take away the fruit bowl, spread a gilded fan in an uncharacteristically graceful motion. Rather than put it to use, he snapped it open and closed, the motion suggesting a pendulum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though beautiful, the filigree made an obnoxious noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Schkrik-tsk!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Schkrik-tsk! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Magnificence,” said Giacomo, sidling to reclaim some of his ruler’s attention, “the boy has had a trying day; with him being of a… delicate age, would it not be best to forgive the odd lapse of manners and instead focus our energies upon our glorious purpose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What do you mean ‘delicate age’?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Still, the diversion tactic seemed to work, so Kalas once again held his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Schkrik-tsk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has been informed of his duties?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Schkrik-tsk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed he has, Your Excellency.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Schkrik-tsk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Splendid. I’d have preferred the immaculate one, but Georg’s paternal instincts leave as much to be desired as ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Schkrik-tsk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This time he did glare. “Shut up! You don’t know anything about it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SCHKRIK-TSK!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame glowered at him like he was something small and slimy. “Could neither of your pathetic ‘parents’ be bothered to raise you properly? Or were you dropped back into the gutters your magnus was built from?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas breached his swell of rage to find that Giacomo had an arm wrapped around him, single-handedly holding him back from the prick across from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Schkrik-tsk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Georg should have discarded your flask the moment he saw how corrupted it had become.” The statement didn’t even sound contemptuous, merely </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Or at least been less careless with the true Divine Child. Unless this is just another facet of his treachery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kalas began to retort, the fan snapped shut against the underside of his chin, forcing his jaw to close and angle upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning in close enough for him to feel the moisture of his sickeningly sweet breath, Geldoblame observed in that same detached way, “What better sabotage of my wondrous empire than to saddle her with this sickly wretch? Yes, there would have been no reason to keep Fee alive and reclaimable….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas took advantage of the lack of space to headbutt Geldoblame right in his stupid face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame lurched back to paw at his bleeding nose. “<span>Loss hwek!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Say it again!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he roared, biting Giacomo’s hand when it moved to silence him, “Say it again and I’ll kill you, you bastard! You don’t have the right—!” One of the carriage cushions was shoved against his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once assured that Giacomo had control of the situation, Geldoblame sneered, “<span>Sez ubus o wobus—qu’k o wojal syzz. Zohu qas eyz en sa kapqz yszar ku wuohq Azha.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt two pairs of arms take over for Giacomo and drag him out of the carriage, him screaming at their emperor all the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Vsevv az enn kunetu thesuesu buzth varrul, lyskothth</span>,” hissed Folon into his left ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which meant Ayme was on the right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I. Don’t. Understand. You,” Kalas gritted back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stupid. Head. Be. Shut. Up.” Folon punctuated each word with an elbow jab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their destination was the luggage compartment, if the racks of silk dresses were any indication. It seemed no one was concerned that he would wriggle out of their clutches, as the Al Zhani released him with only a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> shove into the room. The door closed, leaving the three of them alone together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Begrudgingly grateful that it was them he was stuck with and not his least favorite ‘family’ members, he arranged a pile of Geldoblame’s clothes to sit on with almost no grumbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once settled, he returned their stares. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come to think of it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he noted, scanning them for their usual tics, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they look just as happy not to be there as me. And I think I know why….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aloud he said, “Geldoblame, Azha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes turned steely.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Got it in one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zkoz thryb—</span>” growled Ayme, cutting herself off at Folon’s warning look, “You, Lyude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lyude?” he echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was that soldier guy, right? The one Savyna’s obsessed with?</span>
  </em>
  <span> No one had sat him down and told him directly, but every so often they would reference him in passing. He’d more-or-less picked up the story thread. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, they are Al Zhani.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>An Lyude net Azha luol?</span>” he tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A jol—no, no, A </span>
  <em>
    <span>kol</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exchanging a glance with her companion, Ayme gave an awkward laugh and slipped a magnus out of her deck holster, tossing it towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was <span>yet another primer</span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Birth prize,” she muttered, punching Folon when he started in on a sing-song voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some birth prize,” Kalas grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although, when his only company were two of the most obnoxious people he’d ever met, neither of whom spoke Yevonese, it wasn’t as if he had anything else better to do with his time.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>By the ingenuity of Al Fhard engineering (which he had a strong suspicion was largely rehashing his grandfathers’ plans), the journey was shorter than it had any right to be. It probably helped that the transport vehicle could cut a straight path through traditionally intraversible zones of desert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His abruptly grim-faced guards jerked him to his feet, pulling him along to meet the desperate cheers of the citizens of Azha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It appeared Geldoblame was giving some sort of address, as he waved towards Kalas with a cry of, “<span>Pofu ytes zqu kobaew kazq kqahq aeyw sopsosaseyk ustuwew qok twebalul aey: zqu Labasu Hqarl, wuzywsul nwes qak luholu en astwakessusz oz zqu qoslk en puoreyk lakkaluszk!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a wonder any of the Al Zhani could cheer, they were so forcefully weeping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zku Lafasu Vkarl!</span>” sobbed a woman in the front, tears cutting tracks through the sand encrusting her too-defined cheeks, “<span>Ku vos kedu oboas!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another joined in, face just as wet but smiling with a crazed kind of hope, “<span>Vruosthu eyt thasth, Lafasu Vkarl!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Lafasu Vkarl!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Lafasu Vkarl!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up!</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted to yell, </span>
  <em>
    <span>You people just want to use me, just like everyone else!</span>
  </em>
  <span> But their despairing smiles resonated with him. Their raw-throated cries matched every frustration he’d ever stifled. Compassion and resentment warred in his heart as the volume swelled—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SCHWING-TING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone present knew that sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guillo?” he gasped, but it was lost to the pandemonium that erupted when the crowd realized that the Emperor had been one deceptively oversized headdress away from assassination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amidst the hubbub, Folon took a skipping step forward and launched his whip in the direction of the shot, reeling the assailant in before they could extract themself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assassin wore what amounted to rags, coal black hair jutting out from under a makeshift turban. They were clearly some kind of Al Fhard, though they were lacking in what most would consider Al Zhani attributes—they had darker skin and no sign of the traditional facial markings made from local ore deposits. Perhaps a nomad? Otherwise they were completely unremarkable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, except for their weapon.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sound shock. A gun specialized for the assassin who likes doing things the hard way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no time to ponder further, for Geldoblame had drawn a pearl-gripped pistol and shot them three times in the chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All seemed to draw in breath as one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assassin, already on their knees, was knocked fully into the dirt by the force of the shots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>K-KESU!</span>” they managed to shout between hacking up blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paying no more mind to his attacker, the Emperor led the way into the village, his first step resulting in the crack of rib bones giving way. If that wasn’t evidence enough that the event was less than uncommon, about half of his vanguard casually split off to secure the village. The commander launched into what sounded like a well-rehearsed speech as he gestured to and spat upon the rapidly expiring assassin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas’ shoulder was squeezed hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Ayme. Stonefaced, she steered him in the footsteps of Geldoblame. The pressure hurt but it helped keep him focused on the task ahead. Namely, placing one foot ahead of the other.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The journey through the Lava Caves was a blur of gunfire, brimstone, and rapidfire Al Fhard. Every other step it seemed Giacomo was ordering another volley of fire down upon the handful of wildlife that dared make their presence known.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The odd lighting gave their blood the appearance of spilt oil.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I guess we’re covered if Malpercio is into blood sacrifice.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was an amusing thought, in a distant, muffled sort of way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In truth, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt distant, almost dreamlike. It was as if every sound was being heard through thickly layered gauze, every sight viewed secondhand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It recalled him back to their days in the Celestial Alps, when his papa taught him how to make cheese from caplin milk. The cheesecloth had seemed so thin and fragile, yet it thoroughly trapped the curds. All that could escape was whey—the waste that had to be wrung out for them to obtain that coveted cheese. Papa had found uses for it, of course, but Kalas knew, even at that young age, that cheese was simply of more value than its byproduct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caught up in the memory, he tripped over a pebble and landed face-first onto the furnace-hot rock.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This heat must really be getting to me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he mused sourly as he was hoisted back to his feet</span>
  <em>
    <span>, if I’m getting maudlin about cheese.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid,” whispered Folon. His eyes were darting between Kalas and Geldoblame’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever the intended message was, Kalas was in no mood to interpret. “I’m not a kid,” he muttered back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Folon presumably translated for Ayme, for she sent him a condescending smirk and yanked his arm slightly harder than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh. How long have they...?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Though he vaguely recalled a hand on his elbow, he could have sworn he’d been walking without his babysitters steering him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>...Whatever. If it gets us through faster….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At least their hands were grounding. It wasn’t until they’d disrupted the haze he’d fallen into that he fully took stock of the sheer weight of the atmosphere. More than the temperature or the nigh unbreathable air or the flecks of molten rock that spat up at random intervals, there was a lingering sense of oppression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oppression less like Geldoblame trodding on the assassin’s ribs than a pair of fingers lightly grasping the back of one’s neck; not strangling, not even squeezing, but making their presence known. Or perhaps waking to feel of someone sitting on one’s bed—doing nothing but sitting, not even watching, but having been there long enough that the surrounding sheets were well-warmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It thudded in every step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It kissed his skin with a sensual hiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It exulted in the rapport of gunshots and blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>C̎̂ͪͣ͛omͣͥe̽̿̄ͯͤ hͭ͋́́̈o̊ͬmͬ̀ͪͧ̊e͗̏̿ͮ͛,ͯ͂̒ͤͨ̃ ͛lo̓ͫ̚sͥ͗̄͗ͥ̌̇ṫͣ ̓on̐ͦͮͮ͂̓̚e.ͩͫ̍͊̆</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Underfoot was the fayth’s slab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strange feeling gripped his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it,” he said softly, reverently, heedless of his captivated audience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the source, the oppressive feeling grew and grew ‘til it dwarfed every emotion he could remember experiencing. He saw without seeing, heard without heeding, knew—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—knew, to his innermost core—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—that </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was truth. And though he’d never felt smaller in his life, it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fall to his knees before a force so utterly dominating. He belonged there—for the first time in his life, he knew who and what and why he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserved</span>
  </em>
  <span> to feel small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>grateful</span>
  </em>
  <span> to feel small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s taking so long?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame’s harsh voice startled him out of reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robotically turning, he beheld the congregation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath their expressionless helmets, the soldiers were swelling with hope. So tired of being made to carry the weight of the Earth’s collective Sin. So tired of their identity being chipped away. So tired of loss and destruction and meaningless sacrifice….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Al Fhard were as hunted—as haunted—as any Skyfolk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if knowing the truth sooner would have deterred him from betraying those hopes. Or would it be the same as with his guardians?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, Papa, but… well, you always said to finish what I started. Sin, the Great Whale—they need to pay! Now, knowing the truth about Fee and me, more than ever! I don’t care if it destroys me! If I have to tear every Island out of the Sky, Malpercio will die for good!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely thinking about it, Kalas drew the Sword of the Heavens from its magnus. Power gathered in its hilt as he let his soul call out for He.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been real, everyone, but you all knew I’d be breaking it off sooner or later. Thanks for putting up with me, I guess, and getting me this far. It was nothing personal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t quite true.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t supposed to get personal… heh, I got used to having you all around. You may be a bunch of filthy liars, but I guess I’m the last one who gets to judge.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas breathed deep and, in the welling contentment of finally finding his place, found it in himself to forgive them and wish them luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His papa, who lied and lied and lied again, all in the name of protecting him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo, the hapless spy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna, former enemy and so-called hardass who nonetheless upheld his grandfathers’ deceptions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Xelha, who never stopped trying to control him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So long, you busybodies. Better hold on tight, ‘cause here come the fireworks!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He plunged.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 17/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 6/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. In Which Revelations Make Traitors of Us All</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m impressed you found your way out on your own,” Savyna commented in that probing way of hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was dumb luck, really.” Or rather, once the audience was gone, Xelha had felt free to tap into the flow of the sewer water. It was easy to navigate a waterway when one was a living dowsing rod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that followed brought Larikush’s strangled chastisement of Georg to the foreground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>—zkoz neer kea thkeyrl kofu vseks—thkeyrl kofu kuus </span>
  <em>
    <span>zerl</span>
  </em>
  <span>!—kkoz zku Usdutet koszth en kas! Az koth sez </span>
  <em>
    <span>A</span>
  </em>
  <span> kke vtuozul zku ‘Lafasu Vkarl’! Aey thkeyrl kofu… A thkeyrl kofu….</span>” He trailed off, seemingly to forestall any sobs escaping alongside his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Georg wrapped his arms around him and gently pet his hair. “<span>Thk, thk.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never wanted…,” Larikush began, voice somewhat stronger with his partner’s support, “But there’s no choice. Kalas can’t be in the Empire, particularly not when he’s….” His jaw clamped down like a game trap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo hesitantly rose from his chair. “I….” He cleared his throat. “Sirs, in light of your past accomplishments in skycraft engineering, as well as the downed vessels from the recent skirmish….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What then?” Though Savyna’s tone was less harsh than Xelha could ever recall her using with Guillo, its underlying challenge remained. “I can’t imagine the Empire will be eager to welcome back her traitors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worry about that when we get there, right?” replied Gibari, standing and stretching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘We’?” asked Melodia, discomfort darting across her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One man down and heading into enemy territory?” He let out a brief, humorless laugh. “I figure you’ll need all the help you can get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladekahn flowed to his feet, pressing a peck of a kiss to his knight’s brow before explaining, “Gibari is not only my strongest knight, but my right arm as well. Should a political decision need be made, I am more than willing to entrust it to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Meaning that he has the power to declare war in your stead.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“More the merrier, right?” He gave them a bright grin. It should have come across as cocky but instead it seemed infused with an aura of bolstering, of nurturance. “So, anything I should know about the way you run things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Xelha a moment to realize she was being addressed. “Oh!” she cried, startled, “It’s usually Larikush or Melodia who takes the lead when Kalas isn’t around….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or even when he is</span>
  </em>
  <span>, added her inner Kalas-voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up ticked an eyebrow. “Huh, really? Sorry about that then—you just gave off this air of command the handful of times we ran into each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hoped her affect read as ‘surprised but flattered’ and not ‘conspicuous panic’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the background, Guillo, Savyna, and the two doctors had apparently been hashing out the details, for when Larikush cleared his throat for attention, they were standing together, unified in purpose. That is, except for Georg, who had slipped over to his work table, mumbling to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are the prospects so grim?” asked Melodia, earnest but concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha peered more closely at his face but still couldn’t fathom what she meant. Larikush looked tired and upset, yes, but far from the despair of when she’d first arrived with the bad news. Though his sockets were dark with sleeplessness, within them burned determination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush, too, seemed taken aback. “Not at all.” When she ducked away from his unspoken askance, his eyes swept back to the group as a whole. “As it happens, we may have a way to sneak in without dividing our forces.” He turned his attention to Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is to be an infiltration mission only,” she barked, seemingly unaware of her shift into a more militaristic persona, “We’ll be posing as ship scavengers—unaffiliated parties who scavenge downed vessels for raw materials to sell to the highest bidder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it won’t matter that we’re all from different islands.” Gibari was nodding slowly, as if getting used to the idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it wasn’t phrased as a question, their attention snapped back to Savyna for confirmation. However, hers was on Guillo, whom she motioned forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as when they were planning Ladekahn’s rescue, his true nature shone through his mild-mannered exterior. If he had eyes, she imagined they would be much like Larikush’s: brimming with an unassailable strength of will.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Godcraft really are marvels, to be able to adapt to independence like this. Or maybe the stories have drifted from the truth in the past thousand years, and they weren’t puppets at all.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was difficult to imagine Guillo, charitable and vibrant, as some doll to be filled with another’s spirit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it should not,” he answered, voice as steady as his drive, “The Empire sees them as little more than rabble. While the occasional raid is conducted, they are largely for show.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d think they’d want to tighten up that hole in security,” noted Gibari, eyeing their Al Fhard companions, “You sure they don’t monitor scavengers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna’s mouth twitched into the barest of smirks, though it by no means reached her eyes. “It’s as I said before—the Imperial Army is effective only so long as they have a figurehead to identify with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realization hit Xelha like the gasp wrenched from her throat. She breathed, “The Praetor….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna crossed her arms. “Mintaka’s so-called ‘Angel of the Commons’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine anyone was eager to fill that particular power vacuum,” sighed Larikush, grimacing in Guillo’s direction, “At least anyone with political savvy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sigh that issued from under his wrappings said more than a true reply would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?!” Gibari choked. No doubt the dedicated knight found it hard to imagine that deregulating the streets was not only a politically sound move, it was all but required for any successful social climbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To save their strategists from having to explain everything, Xelha addressed the uninformed. “Praetor Lyude was executed for treason… because he wouldn’t commit genocide against the Al Zhani people. Being associated with him in any way, even just doing the same duties….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words sunk in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the silence that followed, the creak of leather caught her attention. It was Guillo; his hands had curled into tight fists. He seemed to shake with barely restrained emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari, on the other hand, let out a loud curse. “The hell is Geldoblame thinking?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Based on the variety of snorts and coughs from those in a position to know—including Georg, who, having to project in order for his to be heard from across the room, had launched himself into a wheezing fit—she suspected the answer was ‘not much’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with Ladekahn’s hand on his arm and lips murmuring nothings against the curl of his ear, Gibari’s body remained rigid with anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti, having stayed quiet as they did for most conversations they didn’t have the context to join, piped up, “It's a shame we can’t be meeting the Angel of the Commons.” They paused ever-so-briefly, then snapped their fingers. “It be decided! The Great Mizuti hereby be acknowledging the Great Lyude! Vengeance be in store for the Empire!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he was even half as good as what you guys are saying, count me in!” exclaimed Gibari.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Revenge.” Savyna tasted the word, intonation somewhere between a question and an observation. A contemplative look made its home on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fiance as calm as he was likely to get, Ladekahn, too, frowned, troubled. “We heard reports of the massacre in Azha, but I had no idea of the true extent of the horror. I will have to meet with the leaders of the other nations….” His left hand drifted to the sheath at his hip, idly tracing the silver filigree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Larikush brushed at his eyes. “If you mean that, then you should probably hear the Emperor’s reasoning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared back at him as if the Al Zhani had gone mad. “What possible ‘reason’ could there be in slaughtering one’s own citizens?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kesu.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wracked her brain for the translation. “Kesu… it means ‘home’, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, more or less,” he agreed, jaw tense, “It’s an acronym for a rising resistance movement: Kuoves en zku Suk Usdatu, or ‘Beacon of the New Empire’. Among other excuses, eradication of a suspected hotspot factored into Azha’s demise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beacon of the New Empire…,” Ladekahn echoed back, “Thank you, this information will doubtless prove to be invaluable. Although I can’t help but notice how remarkably well-informed you are.” In true regal form, his tone carried no trace of his distrust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have my sources,” he replied, holding his gaze until Ladekahn nodded and looked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“K.E.S.U. could be helpful in finding Kalas,” suggested Xelha. Worrying her lip at the cruelty of her next words, she said cautiously, “They probably wouldn’t be happy to know the Emperor got his hands on—” She paused to remember the phrase that had been thrown around so many times. “—the Labasu Hqarl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Predictably, Larikush, Georg, and Savyna tensed up. Guillo, too, though she suspected it had to do with his apparent belief that he was Al Zhani.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sin’s toxins</span>
  </em>
  <span> have</span>
  <em>
    <span> been known to disrupt memory…. But would a godcraft be affected by toxin?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Guillo who answered. “...Establishing contact with K.E.S.U. would be ideal. However, in the likelihood that it will not be possible to do so, finding an information broker should suffice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dainty clap called their attention to the oddly quiet Melodia. “If that’s all settled, would it be possible to break for preparations? I’ll need to contact the Chocobo Knights to retrieve the scrap metal… then there’s the matter of disguises….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scrape of wood against wood and Georg had once again joined the greater group. “Give me two days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With so little—and yet somehow too much—time to prepare, the party all but scurried from his house to get their business in order.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>The </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yesterbean Mk II. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goodie-goodie gumdrops,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she could imagine Kalas drawling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought was uncharitable but she had to agree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their latest ship, named the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heartflask </span>
  </em>
  <span>by its creator, looked as if it was held together by nothing more than spare bits of string and a polite request—which, as it happened, was Georg’s explanation for how he built it so fast. Guillo and Gibari, who had helped with assembly, confirmed that he had, in fact, kept up a one-sided dialogue with the craft during the entire time they were there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite her reservations, Larikush had given his wholehearted commendation to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heartflask</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and so she was determined to put her faith in it as well. If nothing else, the skybeast chosen to pull it was spirited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once inside, she was relieved to note that, for all their similarities, it was far more comfortable than the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterbean</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was just cramped enough not to attract undesired attention while still leaving everyone space to claim as their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were approximately four hours away from docking, Guillo handed out the clothes that would make up their disguises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all cheaply made. The leather armor barely amounted to shoulder guards, a breastplate, and boots, and yet even she could tell it was made from workshop scraps—uneven widths, round holes, and edges that petered out into nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clothing was almost worse, so thin as to stretch the concept of ‘breathability’. It came in various shades of indistinguishably faded blues. The scent of mildew came off it so strongly it had her eyes watering in disapproval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next were the cosmetics. Or rather, the magna essences of machina oil and soot, which Guillo apologetically smeared into their skin and hair, lest they be confused for skyfolk with ready access to baths. Savyna in particular he dirtied up, even going so far as to mold ropey scars criss-crossing her face. In the end, she looked more like the victim of a mauling than herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(At his request, the night before their departure, all gathered in Guillo’s room at Trill Sr’s tavern. He motioned them to cushions on the floor as he brought out jars of black, brown, and red goop. With these he set about decorating their skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ship scavengers take great pride in their tattoos,” he said as he drew a horned fish on Xelha’s right shoulder. After a moment’s thought, he used the red pigment to give her a burn scar that took up half her face, explaining, “Judging by the words of the Al Fhard we have encountered, your displays of prowess on Diadem have gained you notoriety.”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They barely had time to resettle before Larikush was speaking in rapid Al Fhard with a dock worker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seconds into the conversation, he drew back his arm and punched the man in the jaw, spitting on his unconscious body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sailed deeper into the dockyard without incident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dockman was questioning his, ah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>credentials</span>
  </em>
  <span> in this line of work,” Guillo whispered in her ear, an embarrassed quaver audible through his head wrappings, “Worry not, Xelha; I told him to do that if this happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once moored, they collectively poured out of the ship onto the tarnished wharf of the dispossessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lowest of the low bustled around them, brawling openly in some places, picking pockets in others. Almost everywhere she looked, drunkards languished in a field of spent casks and bottles. An inordinate number of the residents appeared to be Al Zhani. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what got to her most of all was just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span> they all were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A woman with a skull tattoo across her face won a fight against three other ruffians, then beckoned her children out of hiding to comfort and kiss their grimy scalps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A Sadali a wharf over was allowing the wingless natives to stroke their soft, owl-like feathers, describing in broken Al Fhard what it felt like to fly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dourest of the drunks was found by a group of their friends and escorted gently away, tears in all of their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little boy fished a coin out of a crack and snuck it into the pocket of another. His friend caught him in the act and tried to refuse it, despite his jutting ribs visible through the scraps of his clothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha wanted nothing more than to gather every last one of them up in her arms and take them away to Kaffaljidhma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she was on a mission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so she let her fury twist her face into the visage of a thug and followed the others stiffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kua! Aey zkutu, os zku keel!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An Al Zhani pushed their way through the crowd to give Guillo a sheet of paper. Whatever was on it, it had him reeling back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kkoz… kek…</span>,” he gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Oz loaktuov, eyz en sekkutu, zkutu koth o toal!</span>” they hissed, urgency screaming from every pore, “<span>Zkua’tu besu sek, kyz zkua bofu yth zkuthu</span>!” They shook the paper for emphasis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo extended his arms and the two grasped each other by the elbows, kissing the other’s cheeks. “<span>Zkosv aey, ntausl…! A vos esra asobasu zku tathkth—</span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While they were disentangling themselves, Savyna whispered, “The Empire knows we’re here. We need to move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There should be a portal to the Endmost Bethel nearby!” panted Larikush as they hurried along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the transdimensional flower was under guard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sewers,” was Savyna’s suggestion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they, too, had a blockade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can hide on top of the roofs!” cried Gibari, dragging an exhausted Melodia out of sight of a nearby patrol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha barely managed to duck in time to evade the attention of the machina in wait above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They dove behind a stack of oil barrels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our movements were leaked,” Savyna said grimly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari hushed them. When a gaggle of socialites had passed, he murmured, “Let’s not go there right now. We were never </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to go after Kalas and the Low Wharves were the easiest way to do it. Could just as easily been some imperials rubbing their brains together and making a spark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the ambushes in Mira?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one had an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regardless,” began Larikush, sounding more worried than she’d ever heard him, “Our current priority should be shelter. Someplace you wouldn’t think to look for a fugitive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to her, Guillo tensed. She watched as he tried to speak, finally managing to let a croak slip past his tight throat. “I… may have a solution.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Larikush whisper-yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the only way!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a fool, boy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two glared—or seemed to, in Guillo’s case—at each other. Xelha was so caught up in the tension that it was a moment before she realized they had turned their attention to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m… the tie-breaker?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She tried to think of what common ground all three of them shared. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We all know Guillo is a godcraft. But what does that have to do with anything? Unless… we’re near the place where the Empire trapped him!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In one fell swoop, the pieces aligned.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It would be cruel to force him back into a place with so many bad memories… but we might not have a choice. I’m sorry, Guillo… and thank you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned to Guillo and gave him a slow nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are not far,” he whispered. He led the way out, slinking them through patrol windows like he’d planned them himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their destination was not only close, it was by far the largest building they’d encountered (not that she’d been able to take in the sights during their harrowing flight). Guillo stopped smartly at the door, grasping a strange metal lily and pulling. It detached from the wall save for a thin wire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo grasped the bottom of his headpiece and lifted it just enough to slip the lily inside. Once it was positioned over his mouth area, he stammered, “<span>Kquwubuw A pe, kqusubuw A hesu/Quwu A karr orkoak nasl o qesu</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo pushed open the door, ignoring Savyna’s sharp look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside was an opulent manor, worthy of any lord. Every surface gleamed gold—not in the manner it had in the streets, but like a mirror polished to perfection. The entryway led into a foyer tiled with fine marble, including the steps of a pair of curving staircases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mintaka’s ever-present ductwork ran alongside them as a handrail, doubling as a gardening terrace for exotic plants. The flowers ended both before reaching the landing and meeting each other, separated by a disk emblazoned with an eight-pointed star. Below it was an archway leading into what appeared to be a dining area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flanking the stairs were a pair of floor-to-ceiling windows stained in imperial red and gold. The same image of a star was repeated at every other meeting of panes, which, combined with their opening out into an enclosed courtyard, resulted in patchiness to what little light could come through. It was like a perforated cheese in reverse, although such a description gave an unearned air of whimsy to the foreboding hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if the design wasn’t enough to indicate the political affiliation of the residents, directly between the staircases on the second floor was an alcove dedicated solely to the imperial flag: the tri-starred shield beneath a green griffon with a sword imbedded in its heart. Xelha couldn’t quite recall the legend behind it, just that it was the birth of Alfard as a united kingdom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And through the air wafted the same sweet scent of machina gas she’d come to associate with Guillo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could take in anything further, Savyna had unsheathed her claws and taken a step forward. She hadn’t quite fallen into a ready stance but it was near enough that Xelha rested a hand on the clasp of her deck holster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you and why—”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>BLAM!</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>A bullet hit Guillo in his goggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all had their weapons out before the ricochet hit the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From past the dining room entrance, a woman with a large gun stepped into the antechamber with them. Though she bore the heavy wrinkles of a grandmatron, her yet vibrant red hair and ability to lift the indubitably heavy machina suggested premature aging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Sudz zasu A—</span>” The weapon dropped from her hands when she saw the damage she’d done. “<span>Sa kea?! Thear kurek, ath zkoz aey?!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almarde,” murmured Guillo, seemingly stunned, “Almarde!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Az ath aey!</span>” She rushed forward, heedless of the heavily armed intruders, and swept him up into her arms. “<span>Sa luot kea, kovv ntes zku luol!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He embraced back as if the woman was life itself. “<span>Almarde, A saththul aey setu zkos A vos ufut thoa! A os the thetta A runz aey orr oresu!</span>” He was openly weeping, sobs breaking down every syllable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almarde was no better, her tears quickly soaking into his hood. “<span>A keyrl thdusl ufuta loa net zku tuthz en sa ranu oresu an az suosz aey kutu orafu osl kurr, sa thkuuz Lyude!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna drew a breath in through her teeth, long, slow, and pained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ly… ude?” Xelha heard herself whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve had it wrong the whole time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she realized, eyes widening. All the clues she should have picked up on flashed in the forefront of her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Diadem to pass on intelligence and seek asylum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fluency in the languages and technology of Alfard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His kinship with the traitor, Larikush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill settled in her ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Guillo—no, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lyude</span>
  <em>
    <span>—was never a godcraft.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She chanced a peek at Larikush. His eyes were thick with proud, adoring tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve been talking around each other for months. We… we never fully voiced our thoughts... assumed the other had the same information!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari, after scanning each astounded face, finally broke the mood with an awkward, “So, I guess the Angel of the Commons is still kicking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah!” The aforementioned Angel extricated himself from Almarde’s embrace, falling into a deep bow too swiftly for his face to be seen. “I beg forgiveness for my subterfuge!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When, at the flustered consort’s urging, he again rose, his left eye was visible through a hole in his spiderwebbed goggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bright as rhubarb wine viewed with the sun behind, the red of his iris accentuated the unusual form of his pupil. It appeared to be comprised of both spiral orientations, crossing each other in a lacy pattern. The effect was that of a doily or perhaps a hand-painted teacup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine strands of rich red hair were plastered to the surrounding skin by a sheen of excess sweat. She didn’t doubt that wearing as many layers as he did in a desert had been causing him great suffering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flicking between his companions one at a time, that eye finally rested on Savyna, where it dipped down in shame. Then widened when he looked back up, for Savyna had cracked a small, wry grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emphasis on imperial intelligence,” she began in a tone that rivaled the air in dryness, “also fell out of popularity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly caught off guard, Lyude laughed softly, pulling off his cowl. “I have heard it said that it peaked twenty years ago.” He stripped off his pauldrons, cape, and trench coat for good measure, revealing a much more slender build than it had seemed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where the enigmatic Guillo had carried about sorrow like it was a nursing infant, Praetor Lyude seemed built of it. From his haunted eyes to his guilt-ridden shoulders to the lonely set of his body, he seemed as much mourner as he was angel. Even as he laughed, he held himself as if expecting to be reprimanded for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, in an instant his mirth had withered down to nothing. “I do hope that I may yet find some way to prove myself unto all of you whom I have deceived.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mood was disrupted by the soft thump of Mizuti’s hands slapping themselves down akimbo. A frustrated growl issued forth from under their mask. In an instant they had sailed over the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Lyude be speaking hogwash!” they chirped, plopping themself down directly in front of him, “He didn’t deceive us, he deceived the wicked ones!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed in position until he hesitantly agreed, then, satisfied, drifted off to the side to inspect the star sigil above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari charmed in, nodding enthusiastically, “Besides, you’ve been sticking your neck out for us this whole time. I think that more than makes up for whatever wrongs you think you did us by keeping secrets.” His grin became wry. “Although I’m not sure how much that means coming from the newbie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than be soothed, Lyude seemed to grow ever more troubled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her right, Larikush’s jaw was pointedly clenched in her direction. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve said my piece more times than I can count,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave a tiny nod back. Taking a bracing breath, she said, “Lyude, you have to believe in the good you’ve done—the compassion you’ve shown! Even when we thought you’d betrayed us in the library, you never stopped trusting us, and that takes unbelievable courage!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her encouragement was met with silence. Then—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, Miss Xelha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Him slipping back into formal address was not a good sign. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you…? That is to say, if you knew my history—” His eyes flared wide, as if in sudden pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guillo?” Without meaning to, his old address had slipped off her tongue. “I mean…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sucked in air so fast it sounded like a hiss. “You… did not know. You truly thought I was Guillo, the uncelebrated companion to High Summoner Sagi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Think fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she urged herself,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Oh, why did I say as much as I did?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not be embarrassed, Xelha~!” Mizuti, having followed the unfolding drama from on high, glided back to a reasonable speaking distance. Apparently they’d decided she was more in need of moral support than Lyude. “The Great Mizuti confused the Great Lyude with godcraft as well! The Great Lyude be great indeed, that he be convincing the Great Mizuti!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude gasped, “That word again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Godcraft’....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s stomach plummeted down to the Earth itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least Lyude didn’t seem upset with her, though he also didn’t seem as willing to let her oddness slide as he usually was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When first we met, you mentioned ‘godcraft’ as soon as I introduced myself,” he said, frowning in thought, “But afterwards you seemed alarmed and would not speak of it further.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” She thought back to that day. “I didn’t really say much of anything though; wasn’t it Kalas and Melodia who did most of the talking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked as confused as she felt. “Oh, no, I meant when we met aboard the liner bound for Diadem,” he clarified, “I take it you still lack any memories of that time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s right—I was attacked shortly after and got amnesia. So much has happened since then I haven’t had a chance to think about it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid so….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping forward until he was able to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, he continued, “You requested I meet you before Sin, that it be vanquished once and for all….” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could barely hear Shiva’s berating over the racetrack her mind became with that one simple sentence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scanned the room as subtly as she could. As expected, most of the occupants showed only confusion, the less trusting eying her the manner one might an ornery sphinx.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti, on the other hand, was so shocked their feet touched the ground. “Xelha, you be—!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great Mizuti, I’ve taken the vows!” she begged, praying that the Earth hadn’t lost the legend of the Ice Queen as the Sky had that of the godcraft, “There’s no point…. Please just forget what you’ve heard… at least until we’ve rescued Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where her pleading failed, the reminder of why they’d come spurred her comrades to turn a blind eye. Although they continued to glance at her from the corner of their eyes, they turned their attention back to Lyude, who began rapidly conversing with Almarde in Al Zhani.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush, head tilted towards their hosts even as he eyed her, interjected, “Are you sure that’s wise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no point in remaining in disguise if your enemies have caught on to you,” replied Almarde, her Yevonese prettily accented, “Better to feel comfortable in your own skin, should it come to a fight.” To those with limited Al Fhard comprehension she explained, “I’m going to set up the baths for you, my dears. While you get yourselves clean, I’ll prepare a meal. I’m sure you’re hungry from evading the manhunt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna stepped forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anyone had anticipated her to play the devil’s advocate, they were in for a surprise. With a small smile, she replied, “I don’t anticipate us having difficulty once lowborn Mintakans know their Angel has returned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Recalling the encounter in Low Wharves, Xelha was inclined to agree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, it seemed, was Larikush, as he gave in without a fuss. That, or even self-preservation couldn’t overcome his medical training.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Ahhhhhh,” Xelha moaned as she sank into the water, heedless of her company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t had the opportunity for a proper bath since enjoying Queen Corellia’s hospitality; Lord Rodolfo himself could leap out of the small communal pool and she wouldn’t allow it to interfere with her relaxation. Not that Melodia and Mizuti seemed to mind overly much.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s almost as good as the thermal springs below Cursa</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she hummed in bliss, weaving her hands through the froth generated by the mechanized tub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sections of the cave system known as Shiva’s Womb that were open to the public were a popular gathering spot, particularly after a long day or during festival times. The residual heat of the Earth’s core, carefully curated by generations of witches, kept Wazn from freezing over entirely, both geologically and spiritually. The minerals rejuvenated the flesh whilst the steam purified the lungs, which had helped immensely when her mother was struggling after repeated miscarriages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bath waters weren’t so wholesome—what water was available in a desert nation was sickly compared to glacial runoff—but, with her friends at her side, it was familiar enough an experience to satisfy a craving she hadn’t noticed growing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides which, what it lacked in earth for the body to absorb, it made up for in pleasing aromas not unlike incense. There were none that she recognized, though she caught notes of machina gas and something like Larikush’s pipeweed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is nice to relax for awhile, isn’t it?” Melodia commented, wading over to pour perfumes directly onto Xelha’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm,” she agreed. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of another massaging her scalp. She was half-tempted to fall asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From their spot on the shallow steps leading into the water, Mizuti chirped, “What are you doing, Melodia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still have your mask on?” Melodia scolded instead of answering, “You can’t expect to get clean like that, silly~♥~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hummed skeptically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t want the paint to melt off, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hasty rustling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha opened her eyes, not wanting to miss the reveal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti’s face was round and cute, skin a pale, pinkish tan. Their wide, expressive eyes were the shade of hot cocoa, framed by scarlet makeup forming wings and curls. It matched their hair, which had a single strong wave, then ended in a spunky upward swoop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti not be barefaced in some time!” they yipped. Their voice was much higher without the mask to dampen its pitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever else they had to say was lost amidst bubbles as they unceremoniously dunked their head below the waterline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia merely clucked her tongue in a manner reminiscent of Peachy and continued lathering Xelha’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish it could always be like this,” Xelha murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Savyna, finally joining them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha lazily opened one eye, much more quickly closing it out of respect for the married woman’s privacy. With a surprising degree of effort she squashed down a stab of jealousy towards Lolo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” she said instead, “I just feel so… safe. I know we’re in enemy territory, but here with you all, warm and clean… I could almost forget why we came here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas… if you could feel this, would you give up your plans? I hope there’s time to share this with you… before the end….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment stretched comfortably into nothingness, as how a long brush stroke lost ink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they begrudgingly roused from their basking to allow the men their turn. By then, Almarde had finished laundering their clothes and even set out a more appropriate wardrobe for traversing the desert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s consisted of a knee-length skirt of woven grass that made pleasant rasping sounds as she walked, in addition to a long, checkered shawl; a hip-length beaded overdress; and a detached hood of mixed grass types.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reverently stroked the beadwork. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We really are nearing the end of our journey. Any day now we’ll arrive at the Lava Caves, and these clothes will be what gets us there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But first, a nap.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>After they all had had their fill of creature comforts, they made their way down to the dining area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even considering the length of time they had rested and the relatively small size of the table, Almarde had done an impressive job in filling it with all manner of food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Redware bowls of custard and fritters to dip in them. As it turned out, the pottery that would otherwise be shunned as common by highborn Al Fhard was traditionally used for the serving of it, as nothing accentuated the visual appeal of the thick cream like their rich russet tones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breads flat and knotted and bulbous. Some turned out to be buns stuffed with stewed, shredded caplin. The savory, gamey taste of the meat was complimented wonderfully by cinnamon and nutmeg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An assortment of cheeses, largely falling into the categories of nutty, soft, or filled with herbs. One that was all three was to die for, particularly when she learned it was a specialty based on an Al Niha recipe that had survived the nation’s demise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saffron rice. Tasting what the Wazni had long thought to be an extinct spice made her tear up in joy, leading to Lyude offering her a handkerchief on the assumption that one of the dishes was too spicy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desert caplin curry. It was their fortune that the time-intensive meal had just finished stewing around when they arrived, as evidenced by the heavenly scent of the long-steeped spices that escaped every time the lid was lifted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tea she instantly identified as the one Larikush’s mix was attempting to emulate. Upon the realization that she would soon have to settle for Larikush’s again, she resolved to ensure a sample made it back to Barnette to work her green thumb on. It had just the right amount of bite to round out the pantheon of chill-combatting beverages favored by her people.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>this</span>
  <em>
    <span> is how the Al Wezni came to be</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, blissfully sipping her second cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the meal, Almarde strong-armed them into more leisure time. “Resting your bodies without giving your minds the same consideration will do you no good,” she’d scolded, herding them upstairs to an oversized study.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush took the opportunity to give Xelha a <span>quick lesson in Al Fhard</span>, then both settled down with books they’d found on the shelves. He chose a compilation of woodwind sheet music, recommending an Al Fhard classic about courtly love to her. His cautious relearning of old favorites made the perfect backdrop for the story to come to life for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others busied themselves in various ways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti guided a curious Gibari through meditation until he excused himself out of boredom. Instead he made himself at home at the nearby desk to compose a letter to Ladekahn. The sorcerer didn’t seem to mind, quickly settling into an easy stillness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna polished each and every one of her weapons, including a fishing rod she enigmatically stated she’d brought along “for old time’s sake”. At one point, she recognized a song and sang along under her breath. Her voice, though lacking in skill, had an honesty to it, poignant in its rawness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Lyude could be convinced to relax in his deceased father’s space, he began harmonizing with a soft-voiced trumpet. It goaded Larikush to play louder and with more confidence. Savyna, too, took risks with her pride, letting her rolling alto timbre free from the confines of a breathy head voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The result was a lively, if unpolished, performance. Xelha let herself be pulled into a reel by Mizuti, Gibari throwing down his pen soon after. Each having grown up isolated from the others’ cultures, they quickly defaulted to the dances they were familiar with, laughing each time they bumped into someone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even her bad arm barely protested the jostling, as if it too wished for some levity. The same was true of her magical core, which was brimming with such vitality that, without meaning to, she’d swept the machina steam up along with her, to Mizuti’s delight; they beckoned her off the floor—in the most literal sense possible—and looped in playful revolutions around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until she tumbled into an armchair, exhausted, that Xelha noticed Melodia sitting separate from the group, glaring at nothing in particular. No one else seemed to notice with Mizuti enthusiastically improvising lyrics to a jig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she was addressed, she snapped to her usual cheery self. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry if I worried you, dearheart,” she cooed, all traces of anger vanished, “It happens I was lost in thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” asked Gibari, settling opposite of them, “Anything you want to talk about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as such….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude extracted himself from the quartet. “Even so, we would hear your thoughts, if but to give you relief from them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were exactly as earnest as Xelha had long envisioned them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia silently contemplated them before nodding at the dress they had all put on. “I mean no offense to your mother….,” she began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked confused, then coughed in reply. “Um, Almarde is—was—my wetnurse, not my mother,” he admitted with a certain moroseness to his tone, “I have always—that is, in absence of knowledge of my blood mother’s name or present location—I—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a breath, quavering on the verge of tears. Having to turn away to continue, he did so in a deliberately blank tone. “I am a bastard, conceived of my father’s betrayal of his wife. For her own safety, she could not be made known to me, and Lady Camilla was understandably loathe to treat me as her own…. Almarde is the mother I would choose for myself and, as such, I chose her to act as ‘Guillo’s’ mother….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should try calling her that sometime—bet it’d make her day!” Gibari said, smiling and yanking him into a powerful hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude seemed to choke on the evidently rare affection ‘til he accidentally made eye contact again with Melodia. He immediately wriggled free and fussed, “Oh dear, I have [commandeered] all of the comfort that rightfully should have been yours! Please, continue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia’s smile seemed hollow somehow, much like it had back when they were planning the rescue back in Mira.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I had no idea Kalas meant this much to her. I can’t say I envy any Al Fhard that get in her way once we find him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take much further cajoling for her to explain her concerns. “When it comes down to it, we don’t really have a reason to believe Kalas is in the Lava Caves. I’m worried that while we’re tromping around Azha, poor Kalas will be suffering in the Imperial Fortress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha blinked. “I hadn’t thought of it like that….” It did make more sense for the Emperor to keep his prize close by, with an army to keep out his notoriously determined guardians.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Emperor has a vested interest in seeing Kalas acquire aeons,” said Larikush from across the room. A peculiar expression crossed his face, as well as those of the other two imperial citizens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the same expression that consistently appeared when the phrase ‘Labasu Hqarl’ was spoken.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Labasu Hqarl’... let’s see, that means….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...’Divine Child’?” she puzzled aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari, shooting a glance at the equally oblivious Mizuti, said dryly, “I’m guessing this is another mind blowing secret of Summoner Kalas’ retinue?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not… quite…,” sighed the doctor, setting his flute down entirely, “I suppose it’s past time I trusted all of you with the truth about Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not really necessary…,” she said. Even to her the protest sounded weak; none of them had ever made any secret of their curiosity with regards to Kalas’ past, Al Fhard and Yevonite alike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except, it seemed, for Melodia, whose red eyes flashed in warning. Mouth curled in dissatisfaction, she half rose, snapping as she went, “What of his privacy?! He asked you to drop the subject, didn’t he?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taken aback, Larikush began, “Well, yes, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—And you!” she cried, pointing at Xelha, “I thought you cared for him! How can you go along with this?!” She looked the part of a wrathful goddess, staring coldly down at her over marble cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s right…</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Xelha realized, echoes of her recurring vision—</span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> recurring nightmare—pattering like droplets in her skull, </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I really loved him… I… but I can’t just let it go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see you’ve made your choice.” Though her voice was once more even and soft, Melodia barely seemed the same person she’d come to regard as a sister-in-arms. It was as if a beast had made itself at home inside a porcelain doll—ever poised, as yet uncertain if it would greet or strike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a split second, Xelha doubted her decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What it meant for her relationship with Kalas, her relationship with Melodia—she could see in those betrayed eyes that both would be irrevocably shattered if she stayed the course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No more moonlit rendezvous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No more amiable marketplace strolls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No more tinkling laughter to beckon her into the unknown.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia has been as much a guardian for me as she has for Kalas. She’s taught me more than I ever thought there was left to learn.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She wavered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Melodia did not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that, ultimately, was the final lesson she would pass on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust Larikush’s judgment,” Xelha said, quiet but firm, “He’s held the truth to himself for months… if he thinks we need to know, then I believe it too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia looked stricken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teeth gnashing, her former friend brushed passed them all and fled the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were it not for the presence of Savyna and Gibari, neither of whom had gotten to know Melodia well, Xelha shuddered to think how long her breath would have stayed trapped at her collar. As it was, the latter clapped her shoulder in sympathy as the former motioned for Larikush to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seemingly locked in battle with his own misgivings, Larikush stood flexing his jaw until Mizuti started making impatient noises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately for him, Lyude was more than eager to offer support where he could. “The Divine Child was meant to be the savior of the Al Fhard, as both the destroyer of Sin and an ambassador to the other nations. They would be a summoner without fear of machina, and thus usher in an era of advancements to the field of aeonic magitechnology.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thump.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari had leapt to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again?!” he cried, “Dammit, Geldoblame, didn’t you learn anything from Tarazed?!” In two bounding steps, he was back at the desk, furiously scribbling a postscript onto his letter. Every line or so, an esoteric curse would tumble from his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What be ‘Tarazed’?” asked Mizuti, “Be it a snack? The Great Mizuti imagines... oranges and chocolate—is that why Gibari be upset?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t decide if they were being serious or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was the last emperor’s bid to make a new island,” he grumbled back, frowning at a rip he’d torn in the parchment out of haste, “Massive city made of and powered by machina—’least that’s what people were supposed to think. The Empire rounded up dark aeons from each island to keep it running.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dark aeons again….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>I recall it well; the Ice Queen felt the Sky tremor and thought to mobilize.</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wazn nearly became involved with the other islands? Mother never told me….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>The incident concluded almost as it began, and so the Ice Lands slept on.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“In any case,” Larikush cut in, “Emperor Geldoblame’s plan hinges on Kalas acquiring aeons. Better yet that he’s been targeting Malpercio’s ilk. One might say he was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>bred</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do so with limited repercussions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna frowned loudly. “...This reeks of the Maledeiter Project.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For once, Xelha found herself and her ignorance to be in the majority. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only Larikush seemed to recognize the term, withering in on himself. “A spiritual ancestor, so to speak.” The doctor faced his comrades as numbly as if they were a jury. “Georg and I were busy with other matters at the time, but, the better part of forty years ago, Emperor Olgan ordered experiments be made on binding pieces of Malpercio to summoners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s ridiculous!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what was up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This Olgan be foolhardy! Incomprehensible! Asinine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha, Gibari, and Mizuti all spoke at once, to the annoyance of the story teller.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She somehow managed to make her voice heard above the others. “Why would anyone think that was a good idea?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The power-hungry have never needed a reason for their madness,” Lyude declared, offering her an embrace, which she gratefully accepted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush, however, gave a dismal chuckle. “Be that as it may, he nevertheless drew his inspiration from an old Al Wezni fairytale: </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Mermaid In the Eye</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...It figures…,” Savyna muttered to herself, resettling against the wall. She was all but wedged into the corner made by the meeting of it and the oversized desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti not be familiar with this tale,” they mused, settling like a kid awaiting storytime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He, meanwhile, busied himself with a cup of tea, staring pointedly at Lyude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I am afraid I did not grow up with it—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti’s face, still maskless, pled in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—But I suppose I know it well enough to clarify for a Yevonite audience… and a Child of the Earth.” He blinked at the whir of motion that was his listeners getting comfortable. “I… feel I should give fair warning: in the Al Wezn tradition of Yevon, Lady Yunalesca was seen as secondary to an original high summoner, upon whom the titular character is believed to have been based.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When none of them showed the slightest change in interest, he cleared his throat and began the tale:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Long ago, mankind yet lived on the Earth. In their hubris, they used the knowledge gifted them by the Great Whale to vie for power over one another. War and razing, theft and corruption—sin begat sin begat Sin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Beast was insatiable, unstoppable, swallowing everything in its path. Until one day when it reached the Ocean and, by association, the Whale itself. Sin could not swallow both at once, and so it began with the First Guardian.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Great Whale, knowing itself lost, Sang unto the waves and Sang unto the brine, until at last the foam birthed its daughter. She was a maiden of salt and sea, land and water, and thus was equally Man and Whale.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Mermaid met her sire but in passing, and, upon seeing her reflection in the Eye of Sin, fled to the bottom of the Ocean to contemplate her destiny. Day by day, the water drained further, as day by day she found herself confounded by her dilemma.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sin was greater in power than even her mighty creator, and the nature of the Beast was without reason to appeal to. And so she knew she must resort to trickery.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In one hundred days, the Ocean was fully imbibed by Sin. It gazed upon the Mermaid, where she wallowed in seeming helplessness in the mud. Without thought, it opened its maw to consume her as well, made easier by her offering of her tail.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sin ground seaflesh within its teeth, only to roar in agony when, by hands the same as those from whence it spawned, its own eye was likewise consumed. In doing so, the Mermaid bound its fate to hers, and claimed from it a portion of its power for her own.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And so we must feed the greatest amongst us to the Beast, that the Mermaid may devour them in turn. Blood for Blood, Calm for Calm: in this manner we may atone for our Sin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire crackled not unlike Lyude’s voice as he brought his story to a close. Though it burned bright and warm, she was left colder than her homeland.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it was her desperation to avoid meeting the others’ eyes in the wake of the tale that allowed her to catch a glimpse of red in the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The doorway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look out!” she cried, just as a pair of imperial officers rushed in, guns at the ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squinting, she recognized one of them as Ladekahn’s original abductor back on Diadem. But, to her alarm, she found him familiar for another reason. Though his hair was darker in hue, as was that of the woman beside him, a certain family resemblance was clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skeed! Vallye!” cried their own redhead, clearly distraught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skeed, the captor of the White Flame, stared down his nose at him. “I see the traitor is as bold as ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“House Lyuvard thanks you for delivering yourselves,” added Vallye, icy in the face of her apparent kin, “Submit to the mercies of the Empire. Unless you would rather die by my hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister—” he began.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SMACK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Wide-eyed, Lyude’s hand rose to cradle his reddened cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare you address the lady of the house?!” Skeed’s face contorted with loathing. “You should be hung simply for staining our name with the based bood of a stone-carver!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued on, but Xelha was distracted by Savyna in her peripheral. True to form, she’d slipped some palm-sized device into hand. Seeing as how the release of a magna essence was accompanied by a telltale lightshow, it could only have been kept on her person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay sharp, eyes closed,” she murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner had Xelha obeyed than a bright flash lit up on the other side of her lids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s move!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aside from herself and Savyna, Gibari was the only one in position to overhear the latter’s orders. Despite never having discussed such a contingency, Xelha blasted the would-be attackers back, Savyna and Gibari scooped up their blinded companions, and all three threw themselves out the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouting below revealed that it had been a full-scale ambush, complete with several of the Beetle machina they had previously fought on the way to Sheliak. Apparently the soldiers had forgotten to account for winged folk and windows, for their formation broke just long enough for the trio to land and burst through the ranks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One recovered quickly enough to grab her by—</span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>—her injured arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zqu Grykqasp Koan!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha twisted, planted her feet on his chest, and pushed off, drawing her wand in the same motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aquara Burst!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The spell was just strong enough to send every soldier in her immediate vicinity face-first into the edifice of House Lyuvard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Gibari hadn’t taken more than two steps back towards the manor when Savyna snapped, “Either they were overcome or they had already left. Either way, going back would be a suicide mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Lyude couldn’t protest when reinforcements began spilling into the square.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“<span>A kuot zkutu koth vyazu zku nythth as zku vodazor zku ezkut loa,</span>” the merchant said conversationally to Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Using a conveniently timed bump in the road to think, she finally gave up and simply replied, “<span>Auth.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope that was right</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she worried, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think another caravan is likely to pass by.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed he was satisfied with her answer. At the very least, he laughed, gave a conspiratorial wink, and boomed, “<span>O bor en nuk ketlth! Aey’rr naz as bythz nasu, Sathth Koan.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the corner, Savyna found a way to pull her hood even further over her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha glanced towards Lyude, hoping to find him in better spirits. Instead, she was greeted by a goat leering out from under the hood of his massive overcoat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Way to be discreet about it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> sneered her inner Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was much to be said of the fact that an Earth Child’s mask paired with ill-fitting shepherd’s robes still made for a less conspicuous disguise than his ‘Guillo’ attire.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely no one in Azha will recognize him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless, of course, they made the same mistake as Melodia and saw Almarde in him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hurriedly turned back to the road, lest she sink into brooding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ath Azha not?</span>” she asked the merchant once she’d worked up the gumption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, hopefully not at her accent. “<span>Se, se, A vudz zku dtosvutth sefasb rothz sabkz. Aey’rr ku okru ze suuz yd kazk aeyt ‘kez thzyl’ ka lythv oz rozuthz.</span>” He was winking again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude made a choking noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is he making fun of me after all?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When she couldn’t recall how to say ‘um’ in Al Zhani, she hummed and nodded. Surely that was an acceptable response?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently it was, for he gave her a friendly shove and went back to guiding the prancers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush leaned in and whispered, “By dusk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded her thanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he was settling back, he paused, then called, “<span>Canis, zku kozut</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Beel vozvk!</span>” The merchant drew out a water magnus, as he’d done every hour or so, and let everyone refresh themselves on it (at least, as much refreshment as one could find in tepid water). “<span>A koth kubassasb ze zkasv orr aey orr keyrl ku kathzela an A kols’z koddusul oresb.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, with seemingly no landmark in sight, he steered the caravan to the left.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe the Al Zhani can sense the sand like I sense water?</span>
  </em>
  <span> With little else to occupy the hours left to her journey but unbearable heat and conversations she could only partially follow, she set herself to the task of puzzling out possible methods.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She’d formed two and a half workable hypotheses by the time the sun merged with the dunes.</span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>Cross-marriage between non-inheriting Kaffaljidhmas and Al Wezni, then later between Al Wezni and Al Zhani, resulted in just enough traces of her bloodline for them to subconsciously sense oases.</span></li>
<li><span>There were landmarks that only natives would recognize.</span></li>
<li><span>The merchant was secretly a mage (most likely geomancer) of incredible power, which he somehow kept hidden from her multiple attempts to sense his magic core.</span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>She was happy to abandon the line of thought in favor of scanning the horizon for signs of life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And signs she found, though at first she mistook them for rock formations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they drew nearer, she squinted into the remnants of day to ascertain if her second impression was correct. It certainly seemed so: what had appeared to be merely spires were revealed to have limbs, organic irregularities in their form.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trees? In the desert?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Failing to think of the correct word, she settled for asking if it was a bush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was again Larikush who answered. “According to legend, Azha was once a grove not unlike the Celestial Tree in Anuenue, which thrived on the Lava Caves below. No one has been alive in centuries who knows the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even fayth?” she pressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned. “If they do, I’ve never heard so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, Shiva?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bound to Wazn as she was, some Ice Queens would have been better travelled than others, especially back in the days of yore.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>It is as the Al Zhani says.</b>
</p><p>
  <span> Surprised to find her goddess in a sharing mood, she urged her on.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>The Ephemeral Grove, it was called, for the fire that coursed beneath made the bark glow as an ember. It was… a beautiful sight.</b>
</p><p>
  <span> Shiva sounded wistful, almost sad. Xelha couldn’t remember ever experiencing the aeon’s human side to such a degree.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What happened? That is, if you don’t mind my asking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Though she sensed that Shiva did, in fact, mind quite a bit, she was surprised for the second time in as many minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Without one such as the Fairy Guide, the braidtrees were unable to sustain themselves. With each year another died, ‘til at last remained naught but petrified husks.</b>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Sin,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xelha thought. Acid burned across her tongue alongside swallowed exclamations of hate. Yet another reason to despise Malpercio had arisen in the least expected of places.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Among other factors, such as deprivation of the Earth’s nurturance. Alfard was not so bleak, in ages past….</b>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Shiva had retreated to the innermost recesses of Xelha’s heart, and would not stir no matter how she prodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here,” Larikush murmured, faintly clasping her good shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To the merchant he gave the same greeting that Lyude had to the informant on the Low Wharves. “<span>Thonu ztofurth, ntausl. A kuot kuthzuts Nihal ath refura zkath zasu en auot.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Sezul</span>,” the merchant replied, “<span>Soa zku thoslth ku vasl.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ravukathu.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were hastily shooed out of the wagon, and just in time: an imperial soldier appeared out of the night to inspect the goods, as well as shine a joltshroom lamp in the faces of the workers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful—it seems the Emperor has anticipated our arrival.” Larikush nodded, not at the inspection, but at a row of wanted posters plastered across a nearby signpost.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>KOSZUL</span>:</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>Zqu Grykqasp Koan</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><span>O Yevonazu oth tekuwnyr oth kqu ak tash! An kuus, wutewz ze zqu suowukz kerlauw.</span></span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The image was of Xelha herself. The beauty with which it had been painted was, frankly, offensive, as it lovingly rendered her as some sort of evil seductress. The artist had taken creative liberties not only concerning her decolletage, but also with how flirtatiously she posed while casting.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>KOSZUL</span>:</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>Sol Ortqo Savyna</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><span>Newsuwra en zku Sol Kern Ysaz, zqu hotzoas qok pesu nuwor.</span>An kuus, wutewz ze zqu suowukz kerlauw.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna, meanwhile, was portrayed with relative accuracy. The major point of contention was her face: it was snarling and beastlike with blood smeared across her jaw and teeth. Although part of the problem may have lain in the extensive defacement and graffiti, to the extent that the image was barely visible.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>KOSZUL:</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>Zqu Grofu Orhqusakz</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>Les’z ju neerul ja qak kqazu sopu ozzawu—zqak zwoazew ze Alfard hos sohu lasosazu eyz en suowra osazqasp. An kuus, wutewz ze zqu suowukz kerlauw.</span>
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Larikush in the poster was cackling, fists full of explosives and eyes full of madness. Rather than be depicted in the traditional robes of a white mage, the brushstrokes seemed to suggest that the jagged red border had been painted on white fabric via fingers dipped in blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>KOSZUL:</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>Zqu Sorapsosz Syssuw</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>O lakhatru en zqu zwoazeweyk Lyude Lyuvard, zqak okkokkas qaluk juqasl o syssuw’k nowhu. An kuus, wutewz ze zqu suowukz kerlauw.</span>
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude’s was the worst yet. Apparently discontent with the simplicity of his Guillo persona, the artist had added a truly unnecessary number of spikes, belts, and zippers. That, or perhaps they had gotten bored, for his maneuverable lens had been turned into a pair of horns. For some reason, he was slapping a tambourine against his hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>KOSZUL:</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>Zqu Kospyasu Ktawaz</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>Zqak pqokzra pawr soa kuus hyzu, jyz zqu esra grykq kqu ottrauk ak zqu greel en quw ususauk! An kuus, wutewz ze zqu suowukz kerlauw.</span>
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia was posed with her hands daintily pressed together at shoulder height, head tilted winsomely to the side. Above an exaggerated, sinister grin, one eye was closed. The other was cracked open and staring at the viewer with eyes of much darker hue than in reality. Their color was likely chosen to emphasize the blood smeared across her cheeks like makeup.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>KOSZUL:</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>Zqu Hal en zqu Sokh</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>Okkysul ze ju zqu hqarl en zqu kuwaor harruw hseks ok zqu Sokhul Sosuozuw, zqak gwoz ak os okkehaozu en zqu Labasu Hqarl’k oglyhzewk. An kuus, wutewz ze zqu suowukz kerlauw.</span>
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The final poster was of Mizuti, a close-up of their mask. The eyes extended a hand’s width out from the face and were hollow, lit from within. The mouth was enlarged as well, doing away with the tongue in favor of a seemingly dislocated jaw gaping towards an unseen victim. Massive teeth lined both sides, echoed atop the mask by a series of vaguely feather-shaped protrusions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha found herself at a loss for words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loss, it seemed, shared by her comrades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could only count her blessings that she didn’t understand Al Fhard well enough to decipher the no doubt ludicrous descriptions.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This must be what Lyude saw when we first arrived,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she realized. She was amazed that the helpful worker had managed to recognize him, if that was the case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti was the first to regain their composure. Bouncing closer, they all but pressed their face (by proxy) against their poster. “The Great Mizuti not be sure the Empire be wishing to catch us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari guffawed. “They </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> a little… uh… </span>
  <em>
    <span>creative</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He stared in fascination at each in turn. “Well, most of them, anyway. Hate to admit it, but they’re kind of spot-on with Her Grace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to protest, but a not-insignificant part of her agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their first true battle together came to mind: Melodia unleashing darkness upon Giacomo and his soldiers, all with a chilling glee.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d forgotten all about that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she mumbled internally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>How unsettling I found her in the beginning. How time flies….</span>
  </em>
  <span> A thought niggled at the back of her mind, but all attempts to coax it out just pushed it farther away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...We should get going,” she suggested instead, stepping past the sign to take in the landscape that sorrowed her aeon so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Little remained of what had once been mighty trees. The petrified wood had been shaped by generations of Al Zhani to form dwelling places not unlike the one shared by Savyna and Lolo. But though she wanted to find hope in the way the people had repurposed their lost history, there was an all-encompassing air of desolation to both the stark branches and the villagers plodding home. Much like the dead grove, every spine living within was bent in disheartenment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is… awful,” she murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each of her companions from Alfard looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Azha be glummer than Algorab…,” Mizuti agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geldoblame, you bastard,” growled Gibari, “After everything Sagi did for you, you went and did all this?!” The consort looked just shy of murderous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While proof of his moral fiber, his anger only served to call attention to the ragtag group of foreigners gawking at the village entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A group of soldiers lounging around a keg paused in their drinking to eye them. Most seemed to decide against doing their job, but some of the more enterprising amongst them—or, perhaps, the more sober—began to slink forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The villagers, meanwhile, were skulking in the background. While some took to ushering the children indoors, many stared with open hostility, whispering in pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush shakily moved to be in position to greet the soldiers when they arrived. “This is not good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey zquwu!</span>” the nearest soldier barked, heading straight for Xelha, “<span>Kqoz owu aey leasp, qalasp as zqu kqolekk? Az’k tokz hywnuk!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush moved to intercept. “<span>Oq, sa sauhu osl A pykz wuzywsul nwes Minta—</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THUNK~RAK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier had ever-so-casually swung her arm so that the body of her gun struck him in the jaw and sent him sprawling. Distraction dealt with, she continued, “<span>A kok okhasp zqu pawr!”</span></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha forgot every word she’d ever known of Al Fhard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Owu aey luon?!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced helplessly down at Larikush, who showed no signs of getting up. Was the dark splotch next to his head blood, or just a shadow growing from the rapidly fading light? She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t tell and she couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha!” Savyna hissed in warning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spine going rigid, she choked down the sensation of sawdust filling her mouth. “<span>A—A—</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Think of a word, think of a word—!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kesu!</span>” she cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any attention they’d somehow avoided instantly snapped onto her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as she knew it had been the wrong thing to say, so too she was aware she had to stay the course lest their cover be blown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, biting her lip, she continued, “<span>A v-vosu… ntes Mintaka…. Sa bek… ath besu. The A vosu kesu…?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The onlookers relaxed. Somewhat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier’s upper lip scrunched in disdain. “<span>Zhq, A’rr juz. Az’k qowl useypq naslasp kewh kazqeyz aey roaojeyzk kzuorasp eyw pegk.Ke, kqoz ojeyz zqu wukz en zqak nwuohkqek? Zhua orke aeyw ‘yshruk’</span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were spat too fast for her follow beyond that she’d been asked another question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Auth…?</span>” she guessed, hoping against all hope that she would be lucky again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier stared at her incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d guessed wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Se johhzorh nwes zqu rahuk en aey</span>!” This time, the soldier didn’t bother with her gun. She merely raised a fist and swung—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—only for Savyna to catch it and flip her onto the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And lose her hood in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Screams filled the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><span>Az’th kut, az’th kut!/span&gt;</span>
  </span></em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><span>Aey kazvk, aey varrul sa sezkut!</span></span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna was saying something to her, but the terror and fury of the Al Zhani drowned her out.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“<span>Kofus’z aey zovus useybk?!</span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“<span>A’rr varr aey, A’RR VARR AEY—</span>!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha realized, horrified, that they were facing a vengeful mob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little girl, tears and mucus streaming down her face, was the first to step forward. Though her words were incomprehensible through stuttering and hiccups, her intentions were made very clear by the oversized claw slid onto her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A middle-aged woman with a peg leg was next. For the first few steps, she relied upon a cane. But soon it was in the air as she hobbled forward. And it was no walking stick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a repurposed mattock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><span>Dtezuvzoto Korr!”</span></span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A barrier preemptively covered the party, not that it deterred the Al Zhani. If anything, seeing the object of their hatred just beyond their reach spurred them forward all at once, fists and awls and whatever else they could reach bashing down upon the translucent dome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the center of their haven, on knees with hands desperately jamming his staff into the ground, was Larikush. A horrible mess of black, red, and purple covered the right side of his face. Though once again conscious, it seemed to take all of his weight and strength to keep the staff even at quarter mast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should you be—” she started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved her concerns briskly away. “No, but we haven’t the time.” His gaze swung sharply—to the extent it was able, given his unfocused eyes—to Savyna’s carefully blank face. “<span>Osl zku thosu beuth net aey. An zkoz’th kek aey ztyra nuur, zkus ythu aeyt ranu ze onnuvz dethazafu vkosbu es</span> </span>
  <em>
    <span>zkuatth</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna said nothing, but gave a very small nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha, may I…?” Lyude’s hand hovered in wait for a potion, which he slotted into his sound shock gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within moments, the augmented potion had knitted the skin back together, though it wasn’t enough to fix the external bruising.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush refused further attention. Instead he muttered, “Xelha, when the barrier falls, blind them. I’ll lead the way after that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light flared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And away they whisked into the heart of Alfard.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Grim and tight-jawed, Larikush led them through cave after cave, each more unbearable than the last. Xelha ultimately resorted to wind magicks to keep herself from wilting. She supposed the Lava Caves would be beautiful, were it not for the distressing climate in them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that they were there for sightseeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With as few track marks as could survive in a volcanic cave, they would have been lost but for Savyna’s expertise and the occasional bullet-scored wall. Even those lead them down a few dead-ends—there was, after all, no shortage of tension between Al Fhard and Al Zhani. The one indisputable sign that they were on the right track was a bundle of blue fur she nearly tripped over: Kalas’ prized summoner’s robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, Kalas… what’s become of you....</span>
  </em>
  <span> She feared the answer, but not so much as she feared that her suspicions were correct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow worse than the heat and the fumes was a sound not unlike heavy breathing. Sourceless, it echoed off every wall, upsetting their footing and disrupting any attempt at conversation, even within her own head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><span>QURT!</span></span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scream came from the mouth of a cave just past a nearby lava flow.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>The Wicked God!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant, Xelha had sprung over the molten rock and skidded to a halt just inside the cavern beyond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rows upon rows of battle-ready soldiers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo, Ayme, Folon, and one who could only be Geldoblame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there, amidst the horrorstruck onlookers, was the beast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly as tall as the cavern itself, the dark aeon of Alfard took the form of a centaur. From roan flanks rose a heavily scarred torso of richly tanned skin, topped with a golden mane from crown to pelvis. For Malpercio’s ilk, it looked almost benign. That is, until she noticed the necklaces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oliphant skulls. Holoholo bird talons. Entire human skeletons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were all strung together as if a pearl corsage. The bones hadn’t even been cleaned—scraps of ligaments and decaying flesh hung like macabre garlands, swaying with each foul breath of the aeon. The rattling alone made for a nervewracking din, to the extent that she didn’t hear her comrades arrive at her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, where’s Kalas?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t see him anywhere in the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only when she turned to the others and followed the path of Larikush’s shaking, outstretched arm that she saw:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much like a bull, the aeon had a heavy ring through its septum, which was only the first in a tapering chain. The links grew progressively smaller until they appeared to be roughly half her forearm in width. And there, dangling by the metal wrapped around his head and neck, was—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>KALAS!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again she threw herself into the air, only to fall, shrieking, as bullets pierced her wings. The timely intervention of a magically-armored Mizuti saved her from a deadly plummet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who dares interfere with our glorious purpose?!” roared probably-Geldoblame, rising to their level with a golden, back-mounted winglet. He had a face aged by bitterness, not helped by jowls framing a rabid snarl. A distractingly familiar symbol was painted on the center of his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “Ah, the waif. I might have guessed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opened her mouth to spit vitriol at the enemy who’d so dogged their journey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they weren’t there for that either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snapped her jaw shut and nodded to Mizuti.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Windara Blow!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she cried, letting the spell do the work of her injured wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the same time, Mizuti twirled about, chakrams flashing into existence. “Eyes be on the Great Mizuti—I be having a trick for you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What that trick would be, they would never know, for it was at that moment that a pinprick of dark energy formed beneath Xelha and burst, slamming all three airborne figures into the rockface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dazedly, Xelha grasped at a handhold, crying out in pain when her fingers were scalded. Again she fell, flapping weakly to slow her descent. A pair of thick arms caught and lowered her to the ground, which she was shocked to find belonging to an alarmed Giacomo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ayme, Folon, kuhywu zqu jea—eyw trosk qobu hqospul,</span>” he said, gripping her good arm just loosely enough not to cause her pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clap, clap, clap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“A truly spectacular catch, Commander Giacomo!” The latest to arrive was a fair-skinned Al Fhard with chestnut hair, dressed in green and white. “However, I’ll have to ask you to hand her over.” Though affably spoken, there was a glint of violence in his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline, General Fadroh,” replied Giacomo, grinning mockingly. However, the hand on her arm belied his tension. “You have, after all, chosen to align yourself with Calbren’s heir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not so of Fadroh, who laughed carelessly and sauntered forward, past where her friends had so recently occupied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scanned the cavern. There was no sign of any of them save Mizuti, who was valiantly attempting to remain above ground level on the far side.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What happened?! Could he have—?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame, meanwhile, was spitting a furious advance. “What is the meaning of this? I ordered you to guard my palace, not commune with foreign rabble!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fadroh’s pleasant demeanor cracked like hot glass under a cold stream. “Watch your tongue, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your Magnificence</span>
  </em>
  <span>, lest I be forced to pry it from your mouth!” As fast as it had come on, his ire had gone to wisps, in its place an expression of pure adulation. “Her Grace has gifted me beyond mortal ken, and soon I shall join the White-Winged Darkness in kneeling at her feet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Emperor almost seemed more disgusted with his devotion than the betrayal. Cocking his head back, he shouted at the aeon overhead, “<span>Tazanyr wokus, zqu zasu qok hesu ze twebu en yku ze su! Sa Kha-jews Suw-Twashu, pryz aeywkurn es zqu jeysza en Malpercio!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heeheehee~ Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, my dear emperor~♥~</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His head whipped back with a cracking sound. “Who goes there?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong way~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nausea mounting, Xelha craned her head back as far as she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, waving prettily from her perch atop the aeon’s head, sat Melodia, legs crossed as if she was at a garden party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia…,” Xelha breathed, mouth dry by means other than the locale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her companion paid her no mind. “You can’t summon a god without first gathering His divine limbs, you silly goose~” She made a motion as if booping the Emperor’s nose. “Arms and legs, chest and body, and of course….” She ran her fingers through its mane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air of wrongness plagued Xelha’s tongue like moldy bread. “Melodia!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia giggled again. “Lucky for you, we already have them!” From her sleeve she drew a set of four glowing magnus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodi—mmph!” Giacomo’s free hand covered her mouth as he edged them further from the events unfolding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas, be a dear and summon the others? Poor He is getting lonely without his siblings~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since she’d arrived, Kalas stirred, spreading his arms and legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No! Kalas, you can’t—!</span>
  </em>
  <span> She struggled against her captor to no avail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you a death wish, girl?” he hissed as he ducked them behind a boulder. Already waiting there were Ayme and Folon, neither of whom had the slightest trace of a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Come forth, Ar!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas’ voice rang out, husky but clear. Smoke billowed from his body and coalesced into a teal griffon, connected to his arms by chains.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Ice Queen, strike, as is your duty!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Le!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark aeon from Diadem held his legs similarly captive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha bit down on Giacomo’s hand. Hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Che!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“KALAS!” she screamed, as loud as she could, “KALAS, DON’T!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bo!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five aeons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four glowing magnus in Melodia’s hands, a fifth floating out from under Kalas’ robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They formed a ring above his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>SHIVA, TO ME!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo had no choice but to let go. He’d have been impaled on icicles otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only then, carried aloft on the Ice Goddess’ hand, that Melodia deigned to acknowledge her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Xelha,” she sighed, slowly uncrossing her legs, “It would have been so much better had you gone to the Imperial Fortress with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia, this has to stop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, indulgent. “Truth be told, I rather enjoyed our time together. We could have stayed the best of friends~♥~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glow of the magnus was spreading towards Kalas’ waiting arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no time for niceties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>HOLIAJA FLARE!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aeon He lifted a hand and snuffed out the spell like it was a candle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are the trusting sort, aren’t you? I was so looking forward to taming you—after all, you’re only a threat if you defy us~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>AQUAJA BURST!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia casually pulled a stream of lava into the air to ward off the water. The resulting chunk of obsidian would be a king’s ransom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>WINDAJ—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time the aeon grasped her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva’s body shattered under the brute force and faded from existence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia alighted on the thumb, dropping to one knee to meet her eyes. She raised a hand as if to slap, only to caress Xelha’s hair. “Sh~h, it’s okay. I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t!” Xelha snapped back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t suppose you do,” she agreed, cooing, “Emperor Geldoblame didn’t either—he played at mastermind as much as you play at guardian. But don’t you think it’s past time to stop playing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t a game!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not—it’s a fairy tale. And yours, more than any other in this world….” The hand smoothed a stray hair behind her ear as it slid down to trace her jawbone with a well-manicured nail. “...has been forgotten, Your Majesty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After everything Melodia had known about Malpercio, she couldn’t find it surprising that her true identity was known as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SCHWING-TING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeming more cross than hurt by Lyude’s attack, Melodia rose, undoubtedly to strike him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, there was a flash of light, a strange lilting song, and the sensation of being squeezed down to her very core.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 18/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 6/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. In Which What Was Once Must Be Redone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xelha regained herself so quickly that it was only after several moments of Larikush chewing out an Al Fhard in salmon hotpants that she realized she was hearing and seeing at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything felt empty, floaty. Like a garden without color. Or a night with no stars. A deep, cold emptiness incomparable to even Shiva’s bitterest breath. Her wings ached too, though not in the manner she would have expected for bullet wounds. Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d ever suffered such severe wing trauma before. Aside from occasional walkthroughs of wing wards, her personal experience was limited to Leon’s encounter with the sabre dragon at the start of her journey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, as she became reaccustomed to existing within a context, the feeling gradually bled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hoped that the memory would be just as fleeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cough called her attention—as well as that of the scolder and scoldee—to her right, where an ashen Lyude swayed in place. Gibari and Savyna stood alongside him, unmoving, unreacting, unblinking. The last was the most disconcerting of all, for it gave her an unhindered view of their lifeless eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is what I looked like just now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” moaned the Al Fhard, cocking her hip out to the side, “What happened to you, Doc? You’re more uptight than a Yevonite on a scripture binge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush’s jaw was decidedly unimpressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Lyude was stuttering the same word over and again, and so the doctor tabled his rebukes to tend to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two began to stir as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, Mizuti appeared in a flash of light, clapping delightedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Al Fhard whistled in awe. “Man, I’ve never seen someone shake it off so quick, not even pilots!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shake off what?” asked Xelha, turning to their presumed savior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was young and slender, though still bearing the musculature typical to those living in such harsh conditions. Her dirty blonde hair was messily tied up with strings of chipped costume jewelry and ripped wires. In addition to the hotpants, she had a halter top, stiffened with dried oil. Her lively green eyes shone with intellectual curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just a little thing I call ‘magna stasis’,” she grinned, bouncing to a nearby countertop to snatch up a clipboard, “Just needs a little tweaking and boom!—we’ll have—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—an asylum, if not a graveyard,” Larikush snapped, all but pushing Lyude onto a torn, overstuffed chair, “That research was burned for a reason, young lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl mouthed the epithet as she rolled her eyes. “‘That research’ being </span>
  <em>
    <span>un</span>
  </em>
  <span>burned has saved more lives than you could shake a stick at! Easy to be Mr. High-and-Mighty when you got out while the getting was good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha tuned them out in favor of mulling over the clues she’d been given. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve somehow moved from the Lava Caves to this place…. The last thing I remember is a flash of light… and another when Mizuti appeared. It must be linked with this ‘magna stasis’....</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… stored our magna essence?” she said when she figured it out, “But it’s impossible to safely retrieve living creatures from magnus!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl ticked her index finger reprovingly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> impossible; thanks to this weenie—” She indicated Larikush. “—and Doctor Georg, magnus engineering was revolutionized in the past few decades! We’ve been able to transport animals without incident for awhile. Just a matter of time before we get there with people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… see.” She really didn’t; Wazni magnatechnology had primarily been outsourced to the Al Wezn, which left very few records for her people to build off of. She hadn’t even realized the outside world could transport animals until that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’d get there a lot quicker if </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> would just cough up his research already.” The girl canted her entire body towards the ‘someone’ in question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffed, “Absolutely not. You oughtn’t have taken it </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> far.” He waved towards the by-now lucid trio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it’s your research, right?” Gibari piped up, rolling his shoulders, “So you should get some say in how it’s used. But she’s saying it’s saved lives.” He gave Larikush a gently stern look. “That includes us. I say we hear out Miss… uh…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me ‘R’,” she replied, having taken the moment to jot down some notes on her clipboard, “Everyone does around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As always, the promise of intrigue grabbed Mizuti’s wandering attention. “A secret identity?! The Great Mizuti be wondering why you be showing your face—you be needing a mask, no?” They drew their hands across their own to indicate a strip across the eye area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, eheh, I guess you could say that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More importantly, where </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> ‘here’, exactly?” asked Lyude. As he spoke, he raised an arm as if to catch a sneeze, only to fight it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that, it seemed, was the question R was waiting for, as it was then that she threw out her arms and declared, “It’s home, </span>
  <em>
    <span>if you know what I mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She gave an exaggerated wink, or at least made a valiant effort. It barely avoided classification as a pained blink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“K.E.S.U,” breathed Xelha, at the same time as all her comrades save Larikush, who must have found out during his earlier awakening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeppers!” She celebrated their revelation with an energetic fist pump. “You’re standing in the heart of the New Empire!” Seeing their expressions, she tacked on, “No worries—Geldy can’t find you here, and I bet it’s the same for that Melodia character.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha had almost managed to forget the source of their predicament.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same didn’t seem to be so of Savyna, who once again cut to the point. “Because we’re cloaked in the remains of Tarazed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could you—” R shook off her astonishment. “Nevermind, not important right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought it looked familiar,” muttered Gibari, examining an inverted dent in the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It kind of crashed into the bottom of the island? Kind of lodged in there.” She flipped over her notes and scribbled a doodle of Alfard with the location of the base. It resembled a crab with a loaf of bread more than anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At their semi-understanding nods, she continued, “The founders, uh, found it by accident and spruced the place up. She’s a real beaut of magitechnology—even without aeons to interface with, it’s way easy to power! ...So long as no one tries to fly it, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing was still bothering Xelha. “You’ve told us where we are and how we came to be here, but why did you come to our aid in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>R grinned slyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And promptly sashayed out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice was muffled but still audible. “<span>Auoq, A’l puz osa peeljauk eyz en zqu koa—zqu </span>
  <em>
    <span>Qapqkasl’k</span>
  </em>
  <span> orsekz wuola ze werr.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In walked Almarde.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude, too relieved to express in any manner but tears, swept her up into a desperate hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I hear correctly that we have a ship waiting?” Larikush asked gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almarde nodded into her milkson’s hair. “Yes. With the legions of both the Empire and Cor Hydrae on the lookout for you, it’s for the best that you answer the open summons to Komo Mai.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cor Hydrae?!” Xelha gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That be the Brethren’s Keep! Why be they here?” added Mizuti. They did a furious little dance at the interdimensional intrusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That means that Kalas really… and Melodia too….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fear flitted across Savyna’s face. “...The timeline is too short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“According to R, our journey via the magnus was… tumultuous, to say the least.” Larikush summoned his pipe mid sentence, though he didn’t show any interest in it beyond lightly running his teeth over the stem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almarde continued in a soft, overly gentle tone, “The agents who originally captured your magna essences were hunted down by your enemies. Between having to retrieve your magnus and the added time of travelling without detection, it’s been nearly a month since the incident in Azha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A… month….” Lyude embraced her tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gripped back just as hard before taking a step away, hands gripping his shoulders with urgency. “You’ll have a narrow window to slip away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>““<span>Vesu kazk yth</span>,” he whispered, tears welling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanting to let them keep their privacy, Xelha motioned the others to join her in stepping to the other side of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari let out a frustrated gush of breath. “Komo Mai means Corellia, probably ‘Kahn and Calbren.” He made a face. “Can’t imagine Rodolfo is too keen to be left out either, what with armies flying left and right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Recalling their two brief meetings, Xelha couldn’t help but hope he’d chosen to keep to his own, despite the advantage a four-party alliance would bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“K.E.S.U. has limited resources, including intel,” Savyna commented, “Returning would also let us bring the world powers into contact with a strategically placed ally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush grunted into his pipe, sending a dusting of ash into the air. “At the very least, there’s not much point in remaining in Alfard; I doubt those two are where we left them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas and Melodia </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the Great Mizuti.” They sulkily traced lines in the air, which, true to their skill with the arcane, hung glowing. It gradually took form as the duo, albeit pointy-toothed, devilish versions. “And Kalas took the Sword of the Heavens! If he be working with the Wicked God, then that means the Great Mizuti be culpable! An abettor! A disgrace!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her assumption that they were being childish suddenly felt rather unfair. Mizuti had responded to an oracle just as she had. Only without Xelha’s knowledge of Kalas’ intentions, they had given their secret weapon to one of the people actively working against their goal. Something Xelha herself could have warned them of, if only she hadn’t been so afraid of her own secrets coming to light in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If anyone’s an abettor, it’s me. I was so convinced I could change his mind… heal him….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aloud she said, “That’s not true—the Great Mizuti couldn’t have known that Kalas would do that.” She gathered the trembling child in her arms, stroking their back as they tried in vain to hold back heavy, though silent, sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I did, and I didn’t do anything! And now Kalas is trapped in a web of Sin. Not to mention what will become of this world.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mustn’t give up hope. We still have options!” Her voice steadily climbed in volume as each item occurred to her. “Queen Corellia is incredibly wise and powerful—surely she can help us! We may be weaker than in the age of the gods, but our circumstances since have given us much different tactics than Malpercio will be used to. And don’t forget: there’s still two Sacred Artefacts here in the Sky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how can we locate them?” asked Lyude, joining the circle with slightly redder eyes than usual, “As I recall, the people of Gemma never found out the identity of the thief from the Sky, and the Ice Queen is just a myth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti ducked out from under her arms to regard him with confusion. “The Ice Queen be—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha subtly tugged on the back of their shirt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please remember it’s a secret, please remember it’s a secret….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Either she had successfully mastered telepathy without her knowledge or Mizuti actually caught on to her signal. Either way, they continued, “She be a witch of enormous power! Exponential! Incalculable~! The Great Mizuti knows this be true! Follow the diamond dust and there the Ice Queen be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That the plan then?” asked Gibari, “Regroup in Komo Mai and look into this Ice Queen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were all looking at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breath catching, she simply nodded. As the one with the most information (true to a further extent than she suspected </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> suspected), it made sense for her to at least temporarily take the lead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, it wasn’t as if she’d be able to be ‘just Xelha’ much longer.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Highwind</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t nearly as luxurious as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mindeer</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been but it did have superior amenities. Specifically, multiple rooms, one of which was a bathroom. For the first time, she was wholeheartedly happy Wacho and Tik had decided to remain in the Thornpeaks, if only because she was sure they would’ve died of sheer jealousy had they boarded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the six of them had washed up and napped to their hearts’ content, Anuenue was within sight. She'd barely had time to glance over “<span>her studies</span>. It seemed it was quite a bit faster than their previous vessels as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not like that’s hard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, snorted her inner Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Think of something else</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she commanded herself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Komo Mai. It may be difficult to see Corellia, what with all the dignitaries that will probably be there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The first step in seeing the queen, however, was landing. And the barrier showed no signs of letting them pass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not getting a response; they must think we’re Imperials.” Though his tone stayed even, it was clear Larikush was losing patience with being stymied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When others crowded the windows to get a look, Xelha surreptitiously drew the corresponding counter sigil midair. As planned, it opened a pathway for just long enough that they could sneak through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all sighed in relief. She did as well, though more due to exhaustion. Even if sigilcraft was her forte—which, in spite of many an hour spent practicing with Barnette, it was decidedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>—to do anything more would require a greater reserve of mana than any one person could have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, the less literal barriers between the party and the queen were more easily dealt with. The combined notoriety of Guardian Savyna, Summoner Xelha, and Prince Consort Gibari made any attempts at proper bureaucracy laughable at best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, within an hour of stepping foot in the city, they were ushered before the assemblage of Queen Corellia, King Ladekahn, Duke Calbren, and Lord Rodolfo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank goodness!” Ladekahn breathed, rising to give his fiance an acceptably chaste kiss. “We feared you lost to the legions of darkness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari scoffed good-naturedly in reply, stroking his king’s hands with calloused fingers as they gazed off into each other’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch! If you’re done mooning, we have other business to address.” Rodolfo tapped a missive against the arm of his throne. “Like how you plan to feed your armies when you want to abandon Sadal Suud to the hordes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was apparently a well-tread complaint, for the other leaders didn’t bother to dispute it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have things truly gotten so bad, Your Majesties?” asked Xelha. For all that Rodolfo gave the impression of having an on-again-off-again relationship with truth, he seemed genuinely concerned that his country was to be abandoned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he was flattered at having been addressed as an equal to the stronger personalities in the room, but he seemed to soften towards her despite the recognition in his eyes. “Worse, I’m afraid, my dear. But then it seems you’ve experienced your own upheaval.” He unsubtly scanned the array of faces before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Momentarily ignoring the actual question, Xelha nodded to each companion in turn. “You already know myself, Gibari, and Doctor Larikush…. Savyna is an expert on Al Fhard tactics, the Great Mizuti travelled from below the Taintclouds to defeat Sin, and Lyude….” Here she hesitated, as his ancestry was easier to see against his bright irises than the other two Al Fhard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am a former officer of the Imperial Army.” He bowed far lower than was necessary for a man of his birth and decoration. “I am truly sorry for the actions of my homeland, as well as my own subterfuge towards Your Majesties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rise, Lyude,” Corellia said warmly, “You have naught to apologize for.” Her enigmatic smile had given way to something almost motherly, and she gracefully accepted a kiss to her knuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was even less question of Ladekahn’s opinion on the matter; his chuckles bordered on inelegant as he drawled, “I must say, ‘Lyude’ suits you far better than ‘Guillo’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Calbren and Rodolfo were instantly focused on him with the single reference to the godcraft.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s right, Savyna said that the Grand Prince and Princess were the previous High Summoner and his guardian.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It made sense that her grandfather would then be familiar with the mysterious third member of the group. However, from her admittedly scant knowledge of Sadalian history, she was sure Rodolfo had come to power during the Calm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Even if </span>
  </em>
  <span>they</span>
  <em>
    <span> lived, everyone we’ve met has been sure the real Guillo is… no more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph, I’m getting too old for Sagi’s baggage,” Rodolfo muttered to himself. He once again scanned the group. “So, I take it we’re not going to talk about the absence of that insufferable summoner and his rabid mongrel of a guardian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we can speak of my insufferable grandson, if you so wish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And my rabid granddaughter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused. “...My apologies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Larikush waved him off. “I can’t say I disagree at the moment, the fool boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Melodia?” asked Calbren, voice quavering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The former guardians of Summoner Kalas exchanged uncomfortable glances. If they were to accomplish anything at all, they would have to come clean. To say nothing of his right to know the fate of his beloved granddaughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so Xelha took a deep breath and recounted their journey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spoke of dark aeons and schemes, Malpercio and the glowing magnus. She described the horrifying creatures Kalas had willingly summoned. The journey to the Earth and back again. Kalas’ decision to let himself be captured. The correlation between Melodia running errands and the Empire picking up their trail. The fateful encounter at the Lava Caves and the efforts of K.E.S.U.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finished, Calbren’s grief was scrawled upon his face. A resigned nod and sigh, and he had settled himself back to the role of an observer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five glowing magnus… and five dark aeons…,” Corellia mused, a distant look in her eye. Sensing their anticipation, she slowly shook her head. “I’m afraid your experiences are like nothing I can recall. I shall have to consult the records….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolfo gave a derisive snort. He notably had nothing else to add, however.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not so of Ladekahn, who steepled his fingers and asked, “In the meantime, why not pursue the dark aeons’ counterparts—the Canon Five? It was my understanding, Xelha, that you originally set out on a pilgrimage of your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a good point,” said Gibari, leaning towards her with crossed arms and a mischievous grin, “You’ve got, what, two already? What’d Kalas do to deserve you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing him wind up to backpedal, she changed the subject with the first thing to come to mind. “O-one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One?” His brow furrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest seemed stumped as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude, seemingly unwilling to meet her eyes, stammered, “I apologize if I have misunderstood, but my impression was that... you, erm, disapproved of such biases—that is, regarding one’s heartwings….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then it clicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, oh no! That’s not—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They think I pitied him? That I thought he was incapable because of his wings?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like that at all! I meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> only have one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari stared at her sceptically. “...Wing?” Then his eyes widened. “Wait, you don’t mean—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha averted her own in shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how can that be?!” He started counting, starting with his thumb. “You used Leviathan in the Lava Caves and Pixie that time when we first met…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He must not have heard Shiva’s name!</span>
  </em>
  <span> she realized at the same moment that Lyude let out a gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he apparently had come to the same conclusion, Larikush was the one to explain, “Ah, you must be referring to Shiva, her… personal aeon?” He glanced to her for confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “More or less. Shiva is….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause to weigh the demands of her oath against what her comrades would soon learn about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>A trifle, nothing more. Share </b>
  <b>
    <em>your</em>
  </b>
  <b> truth if you must, but keep </b>
  <b>
    <em>ours</em>
  </b>
  <b> jealously.</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her</span>
  </em>
  <span> truth.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Xelha’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...a lineal aeon in fealty to House Kaffaljidhma. Or at least the current matriarch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Best that she get them accustomed to thinking of her as someone of importance before they arrived in the Ice Lands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw them mouth, not her family name, but the word preceding it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...That’s right. I told them I was merely a priestess.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“As for Pixie,” she continued, eager to let her little white lies—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>white, white skin and a dainty, deceptive smile, no, she mustn’t dwell on them, think, think, think of something else—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>—remain a problem for another day, “I hadn’t yet gained her blessing; what you saw in Sheliak was just a spell, albeit a powerful one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up, up, up ticked Gibari’s eyebrow. Nevertheless, he inclined his head in acknowledgment and turned back to the assembled monarchs. “So, we try and match their aeons weight for weight? Guess it can’t hurt to try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna materialized a skychart. Unlike those sold in Wazn, it didn’t appear to be ensorcelled to track continental drift. “If nothing else, it will give us an opportunity for recon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regarding Cor Hydrae’s forces or the location of Wazn?’ asked Lyude, leaning around her armless side to study it as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti, peeking over her other shoulder, let out a giggle, though it was unclear if they were similarly unimpressed with the inherently outdated map.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your thoughts?” Savyna prompted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling lazily into a more comfortable posture, they replied, “Worry not, Sky Children, the Great Mizuti be your navigator to the Ice Lands. When the time is right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolfo snorted. “And how does ‘the Great Mizuti’ plan to find them? We only have your word that this Wazn even exists.” Though he was outwardly mocking, Xelha swore she saw a glint of wonder in his eyes. Or perhaps it was merely greed at an unexploited resource. Such would be more fitting to the man all accounts claimed him to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They harrumphed, briefly sounding so like Larikush that the man himself looked uneasy. “The Great Mizuti not be meaning to be rude, but Wazn be hidden by powerful arcana—too powerful for any but the Ice Witches or the Great Mizuti to overcome~✭~! ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon me for questioning any of this nonsense,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gesture, bittersweet in its familiarity, had sorrow welling in Xelha’s heart before she could redirect her thoughts. She was glad that her part in the conversation seemed concluded, for she was having trouble schooling her face and throat into a relaxed state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corellia clapped her hands twice for attention. When it was received, she closed her eyes and breathed, “Let us not concern ourselves so with bridges as yet on the horizon. Instead, let it be decided: I shall retire to my scrolls, Xelha and her guardians shall complete her pilgrimage, and the Great Mizuti diven the path to Wazn.” Her hands curled, one with the thumb against the joint of a bent index, the other pointing upwards, all fingertips meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush was the first to bow. “I’ll begin charting our course immediately, Your Majesty.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is where it all began.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought came unbidden as she was forced to bend almost into a bridge to avoid a pair of hooves to the ribs. She used the momentum to turn the bridge into a handspring, the handspring into a cartwheel, the cartwheel into an ascension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she spun, she let the sense of sheer kinetic energy act as a channel for one of her less favored elements, ‘til, at the height of her climb, she released the spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flaming orbs spiralled around Malpercio’s ilk, striking and bursting against the winged centaur at random. It reared back, its scream as inhuman as the lengthy antennae protruding from where its ears should be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now, Mizuti!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard threw off the illusion of empty air as a performer might a cloak. Their other hand grasped a locket, which immediately began pulling the fiend towards it. Its body warped further and further in on itself until Mizuti had snapped the locket shut over what had once been its rear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remind me never to get on the Great Mizuti’s bad side,” Gibari commented as he crouched into position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha hovered where Mizuti indicated between them and Gibari, though significantly closer to the former. “I wonder what it’s like in there.” She stared at the thing disguised as a locket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shrugged and flipped the pocket dimension like a coin. “The seal be impenetrable—what happens next the Great Mizuti not be sure.” She could almost hear the cocky smirk roll across their face. “Well, that not be quite true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha was already drawing the clock-like sigil of chronos when Mizuti released the fiend from its torment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Its body was expelled, limbs mangled and twisted and having acquired a great number of joints that had not previously existed. Before it could hit the ground, Xelha’s spell hurtled it towards Gibari.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, at least, where he had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dragoon intercepted it on his way back to the ground, skewering the palm of its left hand right on through to the right scapula. And through that to its lower left ribs. And again through multiple points of its folded spine, ending with its back right ankle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though she’d originally planned to study the creature in case there were more like it, Xelha resolved, stomach turning, that she wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The victory couldn’t have been better timed, for it was at that moment the others returned from their sweep of the temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna surveyed their work, then motioned them briskly forward. As she led the way, she reported, “We’ll have to act fast—it’s overrun with fiends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We cleared the path to the sanctum, but I suspect we will be forced to fight our way back out,” Lyude said, barely above a whisper. He likely was trying to avoid attracting the aforementioned fiends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush said nothing, batting at the sweat dribbling into his eyes. She could sense that his mana had been critically depleted. Nevertheless, he accompanied them back into the temple with nary a complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True to their word, neither incident nor fiend lay between her and her goal. It almost would have been preferable if there had been, if only to postpone returning to the site of her failure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there she stood, with new strength and companions but no wiser than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she had feared, the fayth’s hymn was quelled by her mere presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This won’t do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her shaky exhale echoed in the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A false start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she sang.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cast light u~u~pon~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The dar~kened earth</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sa~ave tho~ose</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost in de~e~spair</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When it garnered no response, she sang it through a second time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final note came out strangled by a throat that wanted only to sob.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>That’s enough!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>She braced herself for a lecture on her failings.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>By the seed of the Whale, cease your blathering, lest I bestow upon your fetid carcass worthy cause to tremble so! ‘Tis not your place to deny the Ice Queen the power she demands, O Lord of the Springs; one such as you is but a twig wielded in play by the vaunted urchins of yore!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha couldn’t help but gape, first in shock, then consternation as an odd thrashing manifested in the air before her. A rattling sound accompanied the phenomenon.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>You dare challenge </b>
  <b>
    <em>me</em>
  </b>
  <b>?! You, who are but a tool of the misguided Yevonites?! You are not so mighty, Leviathan, that your end will not be filled with based grovelling! Submit yourself now, that I not be moved to raze your foolish head from your fucking spine!</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mother!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Xelha gasped, dismayed that she’d let the situation progress as far as it had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind her, the others were hushedly debating what was happening. As she turned to respond, an orb of blue light materialized above the fayth and sped into her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike when she had gained Pixie, Leviathan’s presence was easily accepted. Perhaps it was her affinity for water, or else accustomment to Shiva’s much harsher embodiment of the tide. Regardless, the aeon she’d once failed to acquire folded into her core as if it were a home long lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She breathed out through her mouth, short and gusty. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span> I have two.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The Greater Celestial River was as beautiful as it was stinking of fish guts. Which was to say that it was only marginally more tolerable than Capella.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she usually liked the scent of fish guts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Kalas would have hated it.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as the eye could see, nature had created a magnificent painting of cobalt and navy and periwinkle. The stone ridges that acted as walkways were alternately cornflower and steel, solids ribboning through glossy satins. Even the stone shimmered where it had been struck by the spray. The effect was of fine marble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(She stuck to that comparison with a greater determination than the one that had brought her to the river to begin with. The melancholy blues called to mind words left unsaid under the stars.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where Moonguile Temple had been built to keep out the elements and their erosive properties, the Shrine to Ixion embraced its environment. Namely, it was an open-air temple, consisting solely of a semi-circle of metal pillars. Atop each were busts of Ladekahn’s ancestors holding their favored weapons aloft to form a roof of sorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(She couldn’t help but notice that the one directly across from her bore a circlet and staff.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost a relief when a fiend nearly identical to the one in Sadal Suud made itself known.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With barely a glance at the odds, Savyna gave her a light shove forward. “Look sharp—you have your own mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the other four had casually slipped into formation—the one they used when emphasizing firearms—Xelha didn’t argue. The last such fiend had been dealt with by three; surely five would render it much less of a threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skirting around the beast’s attempt at a charge, she alighted upon the entryway.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>CRACK—OOM!</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she stepped through, a mighty bolt of lightning lanced down from the ever-present clouds to strike the statues’ weapons. Had there been any doubts that they were in the correct location, the fact that, having struck, it showed no signs of abating would have reduced said doubts to ash—much like it did those insects unfortunate enough to have been loitering betwixt the lightning rods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The electricity crackled continuously between each pillar, caging her in the shrine.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This should be scary</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she noted, </span>
  <em>
    <span>But it sparkles just like snow.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Were it not for the heat given off, she could almost pretend that she was back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It helped that the singed air overpowered the fish guts.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>O Queen Kaffaljidhma, do you not know the pain you bring us?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The words came from a wisp of purple smoke that crept from under the fayth’s slab. The apparition’s form was suggestive of a hooded figure, though she wondered if that impression was more than her mind trying to anthropomorphize the voice of the fayth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not,” she replied honestly, “But it seems obvious now that I would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>‘Twould seem the hour of my eternal rest draws nigh. To you and you alone shall I confer what remains of my blessing.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” was all she could say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fayth either had no more to say or lacked the energy to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walls of lightning were sucked back into the main bolt, which speared her through the chest before she could blink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside her soul, Ixion carved his place with white hot sparks. At least, until his consciousness stretched to touch Pixie’s, whereupon the unforeseeable occurred: the strain they had each individually caused within her eased. It wasn’t until her suffering was ended that Xelha realized how burdensome the additional aeons had been for her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What…?” she couldn’t help but gasp, “How can this…?”</span>
</p><p><em><span>Are they related somehow?</span></em> <em><span>But then why would Ixion be so far away?</span></em></p><p>
  <span>A crow of victory reminded her that she didn’t have time to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pixie and Ixion… in 1000 years I can’t be the only one to have noticed. The School of Magic should have the necessary texts… or the archive in Balancoire.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Balancoire held no answers. At least, none regarding the nature of the Canon Five. (She was, however, pleased to note that one of the tomes devoted to Lord Coatl had clarified that no insult was done him by Queen Corellia during a state banquet, despite what the other records implied.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On their fourth day in the city, an Anima sighting in Detourne was announced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her surprise, the other summoners were vocally dejected at the news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, will I ever catch a break?” one moaned to their guardian, who patted their arm without ever looking up from his book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But isn’t Detourne supposed to be Anima’s shrine?” she wondered aloud. At least, that was what her history tutor had said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grizzled old summoner with scarring as extensive as her wrinkles stared at Xelha as if she were something to be pitied. “Don’t you know? Anima was elbowed out of there years ago—only aeon there is some ‘Dib-ass’ motherfucker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha glanced at an equally baffled Larikush. “Do you mean Diablos?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s the shitter!” The woman grimaced and knocked back a shot of something acrid. “Place is stuffed to the gills with fiends and local hooligans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s without having to navigate that nightmare!” whined her guardian, a teen with a strong family resemblance to her summoner. The pair soon ignored them in favor of arguing how much longer they could afford to wait for Anima to choose a safer location to appear in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush motioned for Xelha to get up. “Convenient, isn’t it, that one of those hooligans is a family friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment’s thought she caught on. “I’ll go get the others.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“It’s not all </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard,” Trill insisted as she casually reversed the flow of gravity, “I’ve only lived in Parnasse for a year and it’s already part of the routine.” In one motion, she turned on her heel, swatted away a slimy green fiend, and sprang forward to barrel through a wall of flames. Somehow her fragile bumblebee wings remained unharmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In no time at all, they stood before a stone altar covered in magic seals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did we not make it in time?” asked Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>{‘In time’? What a question…. What a concept….}</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice was unfamiliar. Softspoken, yet echoing as if heard through a tube. Goosebumps raising in time with her wings, Xelha slowly turned to face its owner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all her willpower not to draw her weapon on what was presumably Anima.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aeon appeared to be an earthworm the size of a barn, a bell clutched in xir tail. It was the other end that was off-putting: xir ‘face’ was a mask roughly as tall as Xelha herself. One that more closely resembled Calcabrina than an Earth Child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mask bore a feminine face in what Anima most likely considered a comforting countenance. Full lips, slightly parted, curled into an inscrutable smile. Above sat the slight swell of a nose and exaggeratedly rosy cheeks. Long-lashed eyes stared expressionlessly into her, no brows to help assign meaning to the gaze. The mask itself was held in place by the same ropes and paper seals as present on the altar. The ensemble might not have been so alarming were it not for the grey sludge oozing and dripping from whatever lay behind it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, more than that, xe held an otherworldly presence. Xir aura barely resembled that of an aeon, though even less so any other creature she’d encountered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha took a moment to settle her nerves. “My name is Xelha… I’m of House Kaffaljidhma. Are you Anima?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xe gave a delighted chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>{Ah, the little warden! How grand to have such a prestigious guest!}</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anima sounded amused but not mocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>{Not since Coatl have I had the pleasure of hosting your line. Such a shame that he chose the life of a pilgrim—he was ever so funny a pet! So serious, the wee paragon~}</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m also on a pilgrimage,” Xelha admitted. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to let xem into her soul, given that xe considered Lord Coatl a pet, but xe was undeniably a power beyond power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>{So soon? Or is the phrase ‘about time’? We’ll have to suss it out—do you care for fruit tarts? It’s been far too long since I’ve been allowed a mouth made for them.}</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xe laughed again, a slight cackling edge to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not trusting herself to speak, Xelha merely nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>{A contract then, dear heart~♥~}</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ringing of the bell couldn’t drown out the memory of marketplace strolls and cucumber sandwiches.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Their first visit to Alfard began with meticulous layers of grime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their second saw them make not so much as a token effort to disguise themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The streets of Mintaka were barren of life; that is, unless one were to count the shambling fiends of Malpercio’s army. Bearing plumed exoskeletons, leathery skin flaps, and bladed forearms, they superficially resembled Al Fhard—a militia, perhaps, arisen to patrol in place of the shattered armed forces—but they were betrayed by their gait as something inhuman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Xelha would have been fooled for very long even if they had walked correctly; the air, already thrumming with malevolent intent, abrased her spirit when their attention swung too close. At one point, a burr-like prickle dug into her core of being. Soon thereafter, their master tracker realized that they were being followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It became worse as the day carried on, as the rising heat resulted in a rising stench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha caught Mizuti before they could take a closer look, revulsed by the brutality and, above all, the pointlessness. Unlike most fiends, Malpercio’s horde didn’t seem to kill for sustenance. The bodies were wholly intact, save for those that were in the process of being pillaged by insects. Not only were there no signs of the slightest nibble, it appeared that the fiends lost interest entirely after death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Killing not for food or even sport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was mindless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was mindless and horrific and sad to see a proud people—rightfully so, if not in excess of compassion for the pride of other peoples—reduced to the level of street rubbish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We… we should bury them…. It’s the least they deserve….” Xelha’s voice sounded as weak as her knees felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Savyna shook her head. “If we do, we alert the enemy to our presence.” The words came out flat, emotionless, but Xelha could see her throat contract in a hard swallow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush refused to look at them entirely. His jaw audibly creaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Redonning his cowl for the first time since Azha, Lyude choked, “We—we should keep moving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they did just that, she could hear Gibari whisper to him, “You going to be okay, kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I must.” He said nothing more and hastened his pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We must</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>For the sake of everyone from every island. All because of Kalas and Melodia… and me. I could have stopped this. I could have stopped this!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was odd to find the unyielding desert sun a relief. If nothing else, the corpses petered out in the wastes and the extreme conditions commanded all of her attention away from self-reprisal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Azha thankfully wasn’t so heavily overrun as Mintaka. A few Al Zhani had even ventured outside, though they lost their nerve upon sight of Lady Death in their midst for the third time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lava Caves, too, were bereft of foes. The native flies and thick-coated bovines went about their business in what she assumed was their usual way. Larikush didn’t seem concerned about their behavior, at least. And who was she to argue with a man who had spent most of his life wandering around those selfsame tunnels? However, there was no justification she could make for the ease of obtaining Ifrit. Gatekeeping from neither fayth nor fiend.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is that all?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered. She couldn’t even sense Malpercio’s presence. It was as if the incident of a month prior had never occurred.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>CLANG!</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>In the space of a breath, Gibari was beside her on the dias. She followed the line of his spear to another blade. His arms shook with the effort of holding back the strike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not bad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above the blade, suspended by a pair of enormous, brilliantly white wings, was her summoner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her summoner, her friend, her soulmate, who had been seconds away from plunging the Sword of the Heavens into her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right, you’re a dragoon,” Kalas continued, sounding as if he’d had to plumb the depths of his memory for that detail, “Guess I shouldn’t give you </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>much credit then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari disengaged his blade, throwing Kalas forward. “This is a little cocky even for you, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For his part, Kalas righted himself as gracefully as an ice skater, mockingly bending into the Eye of the Whale. He was missing his typical smirk, however, as his face was hidden behind a three-pronged mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It covered all but the far ends of his jaw, a glossy ebony beak. There were no eye holes, merely gouges imitating a bird’s nostrils. The top of the mask split in three directions above the hairline, the outer two curving slightly away like horns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gone were the robes he’d held such pride in, stowed in one of Xelha’s spare magnus. His bare neck sloped into equally bare shoulders. Just above his navel, white feathers sprang in a v-formation along his sides, spilling over onto his arms upon reaching his pectorals. From there, a series of pinions formed his ‘sleeves’, the feathers shortening as they approached his armpits. The feathers also swooped downwards over his hips to form an elegant, flaring train.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only color in the ensemble came in the form of puffy breeches. Patterned with narrow vertical stripes in varying shades of green, gold, and red, they pulled the eye further down the path set by the above arrows down to the one item that remained relatively unchanged: his shoes. Aside from gaining a white feather flourish in front of the ankle, she might have thought they were the same pair painted black.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude joined her side with a raised gun, crying, “Kalas, have you betrayed us?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused. Then manic laughter spilled from behind the mask. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you open with?” He made to lunge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Lyude met him halfway with a reckless downward swing, the heavy barrel striking the swordpoint nearly to the ground, though he likely had not met much resistance. “How could you?!” he snarled, “Have you not seen the suffering of your countrymen around you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My ‘countrymen’? You mean your friends, who never gave us a moment’s rest? Who hunted down me and Fee all our lives?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flash, Kalas had parried and riposted, only Lyude’s quick reflexes saving him from a punctured gut. In that time, Gibari and Savyna were able to plant themselves between Kalas and the rest of their less-melee-apt comrades. It took both of them to hold back the next strike, with no visible strain from Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this vengea—” Lyude apparently inhaled some soot, for he broke off into a coughing fit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush took a step forward instead. “Kalas, please, come to your senses! We only want to help you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m done with your ‘help’!” he snapped back. His wings flared out and pulsed brighter, sending out a shockwave that paralyzed them all in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same fiends that roamed Mintaka entered her peripheral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her forehead burned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first she thought it in reaction to Malpercio’s influence. But, as the fiends recoiled and Kalas was forced to stab the ground in anchorage, she recognized it as the surge of a summoning. An aeon was manifesting without her call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crawling out of your hidey-hole?!” Kalas had to scream to be heard above the discontent of his underlings. In a moment of whimsy, she imagined he was more annoyed at the volume affecting the level of sarcasm he could convey than being thwarted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though considering the strength of the aeon forthcoming, his continued survival was a more relevant issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where Queen Corellia was lovely in a material fashion, Pixie possessed a monstrous beauty akin to that of the dark aeons. Her body remained humanoid from a distance, however, up close one could see details such as her long, spindly fingers, so similar to insect limbs. They most resembled the legs of a silverfish, skeletal and horizontally striped. They matched the obi cord, black on new-growth green, which prompted revulsion when she realized it was, in fact, a second pair of arms, fingers woven together as the knot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To say that any part of her was the most changed would be willfully obtuse, though the most startling aspect was certainly her face, the lower half of which had morphed into a curling proboscis. A second set of eyes had sprouted on her temples, with an unpaired, compound fifth seated above and between them, balanced on its side. Her kohl had spread to form sweeping, downward-pointing stripes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hair ornaments twitching upwards to reveal themselves as antennae, they also took on the appearance of stigma to match the massive bloom her headdress had unfurled into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What once had been a simple happi was now a full twelve-layer kimono. All but the uppermost were almost entirely hidden, though Xelha could still glean some of the imagery depicted in the weave. The top layer had large swathes of empty space interspersed with patches of heavy detail, the most prominent of which included:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moth chasing a raven chasing a glowing magnus as snow fell around all three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sea monster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strange skeletal animal in a shell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Celestial Tree in full bloom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterbean</span>
  </em>
  <span> falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realized with a gasp that it must be displaying current events—no, events of the island’s history.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-... .- -.-. -.-     ... -.-. .. —- -.     —- ..-.     — .- .-.. .—. . .-. -.-. .. —-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A warm, floral wind spiralled out from under Pixie’s skirts, first knocking back their foes and then enveloping them. A multitude of pink petals trickled in until nothing more could be seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they fell away to reveal the throne of Komo Mai and its swooning ruler.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 18/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 7/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. In Which Witchcraft Wiles While Flakes Beguile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Her Majesty is well—merely over-exertion,” Larikush announced, settling, wearied, on the same bed he’d used when last they stayed in Komo Mai.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The irony of standing there <em>again</em> without their summoner was not lost on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good to hear,” Xelha murmured, fetching him some tea. In anticipation of her return home, she’d brewed some of his favorite. A little comfort was more than deserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While she was up, she refilled the others’ cups as well. Doing so had the additional benefit of letting her peek at their progress without looking like a nag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the clothes?” he asked, eyes following her to each hill of cloth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As no one had felt like sleeping so soon after the carnage they’d witnessed on Alfard, the doctor had accompanied Corellia to her quarters and, as the journey to the Ice Lands was imminent, all had elected to aid Xelha in her personal crusade to outfit them appropriately. With Diadem and the Trail of Souls the coldest regions of the pilgrimage, she shuddered to think how they would react to the bitter cold of her homeland.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just about ready, I think,” she replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the exception of Mizuti, all were experienced with needlecraft in one form or another. The non-sewer acted as a helper to the rest, taking measurements, going on supply runs, and offering their opinion as one raised in a land without the sun’s warmth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Lyude and Gibari both knew the basics for field maintenance, sewing duties were left to Savyna, who, between her exhaustive military career and living in the wilds of Anuenue, had the most experience. She was so practiced at compensating for her missing limb that she was the most efficient despite it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude, meanwhile, had picked up knitting from years sitting at Almarde’s feet. He was able to produce panels and scarves with speed comparable to the best Wazni tailors, which he then handed over to Gibari to be knotted together with the skill borne of years working the docks of Nashira. The end product was somewhat rough in appearance, but made the most out of their limited resources.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for Xelha, she once again dusted off her neglected sigilcraft and embroidered an extra layer of protection in the garments.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Repel water.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Repel wind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Covet warmth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She would have added more if not for time being among said limited resources.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Repel water and wind, hold onto body heat.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The most basic spells needed to survive Gomeisa and her wrath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Celebrated though she’d been for her unmatched prowess in black magic, Xelha had always admired household spells. The venerable matrons who wove sigils into cloaks, so compactly that one could hardly tell where one ended and another began. The bakers who applied the principles of potion-brewing and saltcraft to enhance their product.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s might would be what defeats Sin. But it was the efforts of her people that had sustained Wazn for one thousand years and would continue one thousand more. It was their humble power that kept every Wazni fed, clothed, and housed. Their power to produce the tools of contentment that made crime all but extinct in their unforgiving home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their power was what made Xelha believe in a future stronger for its lack of queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done some fine work here,” said Larikush, running his fingers over the completed products. The yarn and cloth were cheap. The sigils crooked from corrections. Each garment was made larger than needed, just in case. But they would keep them warm until better could be obtained in Cursa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you—” she began, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti swung over to the door to let in none other than Duke Calbren.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feeling better, Your Grace?” asked Gibari, frowning in concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave a wobbly smile in response. “I’ll admit I’ve been better. But there’s something I wanted—no, needed—to discuss with you all. It’s about the Sacred Artefacts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Sacred Artefacts?” gasped Mizuti, “Be you knowing of the Earth Sphere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sinking into the closest chair, he nodded slowly. “I can’t say for sure if they are one and the same, but there was a family heirloom, a pendant. I was told as a boy that it was a gift from a wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it look like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calbren slid a hand under his lapel and pulled out a photograph.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A much younger Melodia knelt in a garden of sunflowers, beaming at the unseen photographer and offering them a bouquet. She wore a lacy amber frock and an oversized sun hat that threatened to swallow up her head in its entirety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And from her neck hung the pendant in question. Its focal point was a palm-sized fragment of jade in the shape of the number nine. The curve of the jewel was hugged by a wing of copper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That be it!” cried Mizuti, clicking their heels in triumph, “See? The magatama—it be unmistakable!” They pointed to the jewel. “Unconfusable!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna eyed her project critically, then set it aside. “So it’s beyond our reach then.” Her intense gaze fell upon Melodia’s grandfather.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bowed his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit!” Gibari exclaimed, “So they’ve got the sword </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the sphere?! Who’s to say if the mirror’s still safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We won’t know unless we check for ourselves,” said Xelha. She had only Shiva’s vague commentary to verify that it existed at all. “Although, I think we would’ve heard about it if someone was able to reach the Ice Lands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would certainly be odd for an occasion so historic to go undocumented,” Lyude agreed, lips pursed in thought, “It is my belief that a more reasonable assumption is that we yet have a chance at obtaining the Ocean Mirror.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But will it be any good without its mates?” asked Larikush. His clenched jaw more strained than sipped his tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before morale could plummet to new depths, she offered up the suggestion she’d meant to run by Barnette first. “The Artefacts may be powerful, but they were still created by human hands. Maybe the Ice Witches can make some kind of replacements.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be Xelha confident in what she’s saying?” Mizuti fixed her with what was surely an intense stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ice Queen</span>
  <em>
    <span> confident</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she translated, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I knew.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But, rather than share her doubts, she put on her most chipper tone and said, “I’ve heard that the Ice Witches are responsible for the barrier around Anuenue. Nothing’s impossible… at least, that’s what I like to believe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They clapped delightedly. “Then the Great Mizuti shall look forward to new artefacts!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Nothing’s impossible’...,” Larikush echoed under his breath. Louder, he said, “Xelha, about earlier—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one else seemed to have heard him, so she pretended not to as well. Instead she made a show of counting the clothing they’d made. “This should be enough—with how long it took us to return from the magnus, we don’t want to let them cause any more damage than they already have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“In that case, may I procure our supplies?” asked Lyude, eyes wide with anticipation and wonder, “It’s not every day that one gets to see Komo Mai during the Flower Festival!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling Larikush’s eyes on her, Xelha hopped forward to help Lyude up, yipping, “We should go together! We’ve hardly had a chance to chat, what with everything that’s happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes, of course!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush cleared his throat. “Ah, Xelha—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Mizuti, perhaps in continuing their trend of protecting Xelha’s secrets, cannon-balled onto the bed beside him. “The Great Mizuti be most pleased we be done! I have a medical question, see, for Doctor Larikush! It be most important! Vital! Indispensable!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused. His eyes flicked to Xelha with an inscrutable look to them before he seemingly resigned himself to the distraction. “I’d like to help in any way that I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting off their mask to grin directly into his frustrated face, they rolled upright, sitting with their feet sole-to-sole and hands locked together, as in prayer. “The Great Mizuti’s mother said she has a baby in her stomach; that seems to the Great Mizuti to be unhealthy. Unhealthy and strange! How can a baby get inside a stomach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their sweet brown eyes twinkled with an innocence that could only be feigned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To the doctor’s credit, his discomfort showed only in a slight tightening of his facial muscles. “I… was under the impression you were already aware,” he said, no doubt thinking back on an evening when Mizuti had regaled them, in exhaustive detail, with the Earth Children’s history of restoring pastoral society to the blighted earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, oh no, the Great Mizuti be very confused!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Great Mizuti be a liar</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the Kalas-voice drawled, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or else they would’ve insisted that they really </span>
  </em>
  <span>did</span>
  <em>
    <span> know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha barely contained her giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari didn’t even try, happily guffawing and egging the two on. Calbren leaned forward, enthralled, as Savyna watched the proceedings through the corner of her eye. The slightest smirk curled onto her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude coughed lightly. “It would be best not to dally further…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time she did giggle, hooking her arm with his and leading the way out the door. It was only when the door closed and he relaxed in her hold that she realized how tense he’d been. “Lyude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked away ashamedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Right, Lyude was illegitimate.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she sighed, sliding her arm down to squeeze his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He accepted the apology with a very small nod. “...Forgive me for prying… but does that mean that Mizuti did that to stall for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitated. And really, what else needed to be said?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha, we are… that is… it’s not a matter of trust….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squeezing again, she murmured, “You don’t have to protect my feelings. I know I haven’t been very reliable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your feelings?” He brought them to a halt, stepping to face her. Both hands grasping the one she’d extended, he was the picture of earnestness. “Xelha, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> reliable and trustworthy and whatever else you think you are not! We are concerned about you being too much so!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘We’? ‘Concerned’?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” she began, before noticing the attention they were drawing from nobility eager for amusement. Flushing, she leaned meaningfully towards the opposite end of the hall, much as a ballroom dancer would to communicate the next step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freedom from the boredom of the gentry came only when they had completely removed themselves from the palatial tier of Komo Mai. Like the tree that was the country’s symbol, the city was composed of multiple levels connected by beautifully wrought spiral stairs and bridges. In testament to Anuenue’s spirit of enlightenment, those who were unable to climb stairs had their own, even lovelier, manner of traveling between tiers: the Gardenways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True to their name, the Gardenways were wide, gently winding paths with a trellis as a base. Filling it out were numerous giant flowers, so sturdy as to make their passengers’ weight seem like little more than that of aphids. Like Corellia herself, the flowers didn’t sacrifice their softness for strength; the petals were velvet in texture with just the right amount of give to make walking them as effortless as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If one did get tired, the larger leaves jutting from the sides were set up with rest stops. Some bore gazebos, others benches sheltered by brightly woven parasols. Each stop had a vendor with the essentials: beverages of fruit and dewdrops; small, hardy snacks; and leaves inked with a map of the city. There were also members of the guard patrolling, though most of their role was to rescue those who got stranded between stops and ensure that no one littered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude was awed into silence by the beauty surrounding him, contenting himself to admiration as they crossed over to the festival markets. The merchant tier was bursting at the seams with stalls, each bedecked in silks and garlands. Even the fountain in the center was set up as a ring toss game with Corellia dolls as prizes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they ambled through, he pointed out a booth dedicated to photography and commented, “Once he returns, that would be a good place to bring him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” she agreed, feeling her cheeks warm. Then she fully processed what he said. “Wait, ‘he’? What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled patiently back at her. “This is what I meant—everyone has noticed how quiet you have been whenever Kalas or Melodia is mentioned. The true reason you want to find the Ice Queen is to learn of a cure for Malpercio’s influence, if my observations are correct.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I really that transparent?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This time he didn’t seem ready to accept the implications of her silence as an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” she asked instead, unhappiness weighing down her lips, “I thought you were angry at him. You had that argument in the Lava Caves….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head bowed too low for his expression to be read. “Truthfully, were Kalas here this very moment, I cannot say I would be able to restrain myself from beating him senseless, I am so furious.” His right hand lifted to curl at his heart. “There lives inside me a fiend thirsty for cruelty towards those who have done me ill. The Emperor, my family, our wayward companions….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pair of children bumped into them, apologizing between giggles. Despite the loathing that had laced every word moments earlier, he smiled gently at them and offered a small amount of gil as recompense for having monopolized the road. The two gleefully spent it on honeycombs at a nearby apiary booth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude stared wistfully after them as he murmured, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> furious, but not so much that I am blind to my own hypocrisy. I, too, know the ache of loving a serpent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In part,” he sighed, “Do you remember when, during our stay at the Library of Magic, you aided me in fleeing the villagers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for the doubts she’d harbored about him shortly thereafter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, then sighed again and motioned her to a nearby bench. “I thought to make use of my situation to investigate the truth on my own.” He abandoned his typically perfect posture to lace his fingers together, elbows balanced on his knees. “My service in the Low Wharves taught me all the skills I needed to find it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slung a comforting arm over his shoulder and nodded him on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fought them at first—Ayme and Folon, that is—until they realized who I was.” He turned his head just enough to make eye contact. “As proud Al Zhani, they were grateful for my intervention on Azha’s behalf, as futile a gesture as it was. And though I knew the suffering they took joy in inflicting, they told me of their own torment, and their wicked deeds seemed to mean less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing soothing circles into his back, she tried her best to project comfort rather than commiseration back at him. “You felt compassion for them… you became friends….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red eyes welled with the beginnings of tears. “I watched them beat an innocent person and thought they were beautiful!” His hands shook uncontrollably. “They bared their hearts to me, even forgave me for choosing their foes over them, and my own heart has rent itself in indecision! I know them as both monster and human, and I cannot commit myself to one truth! I must be a truly depraved man to hate and love so strongly….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha bit her lip. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I, too, have been indecisive. I can’t go on like this….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have prophetic dreams from time to time,” she confessed, bringing her other arm up to complete the hug, “I… knew that Kalas wanted to revive Malpercio…. I wanted to change his mind, show him a better way….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strange to say it aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than recoil as she’d expected, Lyude returned the hug full-force. “We are as foolish as each other,” he humorlessly laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will you do if you meet them again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already have,” he replied, “They would occasionally visit when I had watch for the night. There were times when I thought that perhaps they felt the same… but I likely imagined it.” He let his head fall into his hands. “What a mess I have created for myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A vague recollection stirred of their time in the Holoholo Rainforest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So that wasn’t a dream. That woman must have been Ayme.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She could see what he meant about her beauty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could offer any reassurances, Lyude forcibly released all of his tension into a huff of air, then quirked his lips wryly at her. “And to think, after I begged haste in the palace, I have halted our progress so thoroughly!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha smiled back and released him, scanning the market as she rose to her feet. “Well, that stand looks promising! We should be able to get all of our rations there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and your pickled fish,” he chuckled, following nonetheless.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Lyude must have spoken to Larikush, for he made no more attempts to corner her for the remainder of their brief stay, even pulling the others into <span>lessons</span> so they could act as a buffer. Nor did he allow any discussion of the outcome of Mizuti’s distraction, though Mizuti themself could be found snickering with Gibari whenever he passed by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha decided against asking for the sake of her friend’s pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were clear of the barrier, all turned to Mizuti for the promised directions to Wazn. With a cheeriness that bordered on concerning, they took the wheel from Larikush, singing the same song that had led the party to them in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, however, the others were more interested in the lyrics of the third verse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sing that again,” Savyna commanded, paper at the ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti griped underbreath about being tuned out, but did so without any true heat. They cleared their throat and sang:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trickling through the depths, the frozen depths</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How long shall we gather might</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ta-la-di-da-di-da ta-la-di-da</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Faith restored, repaired; faith fair, unspoiled</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fayth of eons’ spilt blood royal</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ta-la-di-da-di-da ta-la-di-da</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O bitter blood, given form</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gold, diamond dust adorned</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O Crystal Goddess, grace upon us</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A sign of savior borne</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ice Queen praying for her death, swaying</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unraveling</em>
  <em>
    <span> life and land and love</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two algid sprites’ lengthy undertaking</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fates entwined</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For all’s sake again</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The last note splintered into silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the</span>
  <em>
    <span> fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Gibari breathed, evocative beyond what more courtly words could express. He, alongside the others, clustered around Savyna’s notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha joined in to keep up appearances, though all she wanted to do was be held.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning in from the side, Lyude read the transcript with furrowed brows. “This Ice Queen </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> still be alive when we…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush frowned, then stepped back towards the singer. “Mizuti, where did you learn that song? What does it mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shrugged. “The Great Mizuti be taught by the ancient wizards in a dream. They not be saying more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing that Gibari was mouthing the lines about ‘spilt blood royal’, Xelha strained to remember a safer stanza to remember. “‘Wings of White unfurled, Wings of White revealed/Wings of White the shadows yield’,” she quoted from earlier in the song, “Do you think that could be about Kalas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The visible faces went grim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti passed the wheel back to Larikush and, unprompted, recounted the first verse as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Roiling in the dark, the ancient dark</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How long can we steer this fight?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ta-la-di-da-di-da ta-la-di-da</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Millenium unseen, millenium untold</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Millenium under evil’s hold</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ta-la-di-da-di-da ta-la-di-da</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O Brethren, rest thy souls</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let sink thy sanguinous toils</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O Heartless Brethren, please let them</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A sign of distant trials</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Misbegotten shards of the deceased rotten</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Powers not of mortal ken</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two tired souls to one misguided purpose</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fates entwined</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sacrifice in surplus</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari crossed his arms. “So… are these brethren supposed to be the bad guys or what? Because the song kind of gives some mixed signals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Shards of the deceased’ must refer to the dark aeons,” Xelha decided, “In the Lava Caves, Melodia said something about assembling the body of Malpercio… so I guess that means that they’re the ‘two tired souls’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned. “I get where you’re coming from, but I don’t buy it. The rest of the verse doesn’t really add up, at least about that second part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two sets of brethren,” said Savyna, circling the relevant entries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two brethren, two souls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Placing two fingers below the middle of the verse, Lyude said, “Wait. There is a caesura here… a conceptual one, at least. Lines eleven through fifteen do not refer to the same entities as the previous ten… or so I believe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When no one could offer any other interpretations, Mizuti shrugged and continued:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Skimming on the clouds, the dark’ning clouds</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How far will we fall to blight?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ta-la-di-da-di-da ta-la-di-da</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wings of White unfurled, Wings of White revealed</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wings of White the shadows yield</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ta-la-di-da-di-da ta-la-di-da</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O Harbinger, alight not here</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Make not our world disappear</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O Foul Herald, us imperiled</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A sign of end times near</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>White-Winged Darkness of the new-Old Age harness</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All thy truth to scatter feathers wide</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two splendid nubs scoured from venture</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fates entwined</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reverberating censure</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I recall,” mused Larikush, speaking over his shoulder, “you mentioned a ‘white-winged darkness’ shortly after we met, Xelha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude caught himself before he could glance her way and hurried to add, “General Fadroh did as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t say it’s something I know a lot about… it’s just a story my mother would tell, of a herald for Malpercio.” For once, she was telling the truth. Even she hadn’t expected the epithet to be literal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The previous priestess,” Savyna confirmed, eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” There was no point in backpedaling. “Kalas’ wings </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> white now, but that didn’t happen too long ago. Do you think the rest of the stanza has happened yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On one hand, she had successfully directed the conversation away from what they would soon know to be herself. On the other, however, she’d brought it to the topic she’d been working so very hard to avoid addressing aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The White-Winged Darkness</span>
  </em>
  <span>…, she sighed to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She supposed that his newly acquired ‘wings of white’ were what most would consider the height of beauty: large, strong, pure, and, above all else, </span>
  <em>
    <span>plural</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Each tuft had bled an internal light, which bounced off its glossy fellows to further grant him the majesty of an angel. A crippled raven reborn as a gleaming swan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any would be proud to sport such wings of the heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Xelha hadn’t fallen for a swan; she loved a man with feathers as dark as his wit and a heart equal parts warmth and steel. She loved the way his organic wing would flick when he was embarrassed or irked. She loved the subtle bands of color, the greens and blues and violets that would shine, iridescent, when viewed from the correct angle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Kalas they had seen was the remains of the man she loved—yet another sun-bleached skeleton in the sands of Alfard. If she didn’t act soon, his true self would be lost, whether to the scouring winds or the dunes they brought.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Barnette will know a way</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she decided, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her or one of her sisters.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Gibari whistled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Incredible!” agreed Lyude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush was already slipping into his warmer clothes. “I can see why they’re called ‘the Ice Lands’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna merely grunted in acknowledgment, too busy scrutinizing the storm filling their view for an opening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In their distraction, she was able to nod Mizuti towards the safest path. Even without the ancient magicks working against them, it was a bad time of year to try to make contact. The wind would be at its strongest, ready to slam the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Highwind</span>
  </em>
  <span> into icicles taller and thicker than all but the oldest trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ideally, they would be able to duck under the worst of the storm and maneuver through the cliffs of Gomeisa until they reached Cursa. The docks in the easternmost corner of the city would be able to house their ship while Xelha arranged for the proper charms to enable it to pass freely through the barrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CRUNCH.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, if they had come expecting the ideal scenario, they wouldn’t have spent the previous day cooped up with textiles instead of enjoying the thrice-in-a-lifetime festival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be thinking that not be a good sound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those who hadn’t already prepared to continue on foot were quick to rectify that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Protectaja Wall</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” muttered Larikush, fussing with Lyude’s scarf, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Floatara Wave</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The faint shells of magic enshrouding the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Highwind</span>
  </em>
  <span> were a comforting sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, until a particularly strong gust sent the ship rolling uncontrollably through the air. Xelha was crushed between Gibari and Savyna in the cockpit, while its former occupant hurtled face-first into Lyude’s gut. Wheezing, he nonetheless did his best to stabilize the two of them, which lasted until he tripped over Larikush’s leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before they could fully topple over, they were thrown against the opposite wall by another bout of turbulence. The storm took advantage of the lack of helmsman to careen them vigorously about like dice in a cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If this goes on much longer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Xelha thought, secured in place by the claustrophobic walls, a powerful arm, and Gibari’s towering brawn, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we could fall back into the Taintclouds, and I don’t think I’ll be able to support the weight of the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Highwind</span>
  <em>
    <span> like I did the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yesterbean</span>
  <em>
    <span>!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And so she struck blindly above her until her hand found the ship’s wheel and jerked it as hard as she could to the left.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CRA-CRUNCH!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gambit had paid off: the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Highwind</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as they found when they’d collected themselves, had rammed nose-first into Gomeisa at a 45⁰ angle. They were a splinter under the cliff's thumbnail, buried deep enough that the winds could no more dislodge them than the ship could fly out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring at the glacial shelf that was jutting in from every window, Gibari commented, “I think I get how you guys’ve gone through so many ships.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude looked like he wanted to argue, but beside him Larikush was subtly counting off fingers for each. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mindeer,</span>
  </em>
  <span> crashed after the dogfight with the Goldoba. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterbean</span>
  </em>
  <span>, lost to the ravines of the Nusakan Thorncliffs. Mizuti’s boat, which, after the immense forces it had been subjected to, had barely held together long enough for them to be rescued. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heartflask</span>
  </em>
  <span>, abandoned in Alfard. And now the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Highwind</span>
  </em>
  <span>, felled by its very namesake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it had crashed mere moments prior, already the engine heat was being leeched out by the surrounding ice. The wind that had raked across the hull was now able to claw at their exposed skin even as it soaked their feet with snow. Each flake felt like it was launched by a sling and prickled like unseen eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storm was alive and it knew they were there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her unease was shared by the other two mages, if the wariness with which they faced the hind of the ship was any indication. She imagined the other three weren’t sensitive enough to magic to notice the ancient spell snaking through every inhale, exhale... inhale... exhale...; however, they quickly attuned to their comrades’ state, arranging themselves into a vanguard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without discussion—or even a conscious decision—they moved as one, prowling through the more intact corridors until they’d escaped the wreckage. Had Xelha’s environmental perception been based solely on the height of the snow banks they were wading through, she wouldn’t have noticed any difference at all when they finally exited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it was, she only vaguely recognized her surroundings. One of the sigils controlling the spell was nearby but she would have to rely on her instincts as a mage rather than memory. Most Wazni had no reason to venture as far away from home as they had landed, doubly so for Yunalesca’s scions. The only creatures with any business in the outer reaches were snow cancerites and other such nasties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha?” It was Mizuti, again taking on a vulnerable quaver, whether from dismay, the chill, or both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes and released a weak shockwave of unfocused mana with her breath. At the very edge of her range she felt it fizzle out against a great surge. Her hunch was confirmed when, perceiving her probe as a threat, a massive gust came seemingly out of nowhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That way!” she called, hoping that her words wouldn’t be snatched from their ears as they had from her own, “We can calm the storm!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t taken more than two steps when Gibari took the lead, shielding them as much as possible from the increasingly heavy blizzard. With each step, the odds grew more dire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First came the floomers, helpless against the air currents. The disembodied heads latched their fangs into whatever body part they could reach, though their bite was nothing compared to that of the wind. Savyna made short work of them, punching in any stray teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next was hail. The smallest pellets were the size of a baby’s knuckle. Then came eye-sized, fist-sized, snowball-sized. By the time they were being pelted with cantaloupes, Lyude had drawn his sound shock gun and was taking potshots at the larger masses. Between his specialty bullets and Larikush’s shields, they were spared the worst of the deluge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gomeisa was in a near-constant state of whiteout on a good day, which was very much not what they were experiencing. Xelha had to give up on pointing out the path when her entire visual field became varying shades of white, gray, and periwinkle. Instead she grabbed a hand—large and of brittle grip, most likely Larikush—and trudged forward, trusting in her friends to do likewise.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Whoo~WHOO~WHOOSH~whoo~oo~WHOOSH~!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A snow funnel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you…,” she muttered to herself. She could sense it close by.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ping!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha had never performed sigilcraft faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The supernatural elements of the storm dissipated immediately, at least in the area where the sigil had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will the storm return?” asked Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head and slumped against the nearest boulder. “No… not unless the sigil is reactivated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sharp jade eyes bore into her, analytical and resolute in turn. “...We should rest before looking for the next one.” She didn’t wait for confirmation that there was, in fact, a ‘next one’, instead snooping around a formation of icicles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within minutes, a viable campground was selected and set up with insulated tents. The fact that said tents were designed with the miserable Nihal nights in mind was offset by the walls of ice acting as insulation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that was left was to deal with clothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-Miss Xelha!” choked Lyude, shocked back into formality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pausing with her leg warmers half-off, Xelha realized that the others, unused to the level of cold they were faced with, really had no reason to be aware of her purpose in stripping. Smiling reassuringly, she replied, “It’s a little counterintuitive, but if you don’t get out of your sweaty clothes, the moisture will just make you colder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha’s correct,” said Larikush, who was reluctantly following suit, “In this climate especially we mustn’t take any risks.” Turning back to her, he continued, “As such, would you do the honors?” He gestured towards the kindling pile yet to be arranged into their heat source.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keenly aware of her every move being watched, she began by carving a fire sigil directly onto the ice. Then she stacked pairs of parallel sticks until they’d made a cozy little chimney for the fire to thrive, activating the sigil only once she was satisfied the flame wouldn’t be blown out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Way to go, Xelha!” Gibari cheered, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. Whistling a jaunty take on Mizuti’s song, he began heating a small griddle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I could tell them who I really am right now and they wouldn’t be surprised.</span>
  </em>
  <span> For a moment she was tempted. But Gomeisa was trial enough without such a distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, handing over slivers of salmon to be seared with toast, </span>
  <em>
    <span>They’ll know soon enough. Just a little while longer….</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dispel wind. Dispel ice. Reveal home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glowered, mumbling to herself, “This has to be the countersigil… nothing else would make sense….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignored him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The final sigil… there’s got to be some kind of trick to it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She gnawed her lip and raised her wand again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Empower chronos. Empower flame. Reveal home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Empower Ice Queen. Dispel shield.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha?” Gibari this time. “This one looks a little different from the others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued talking but she’d already had an epiphany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands locked in prayer, Xelha stepped forward until she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> the leylines pulsing to life, connecting her to the deactivated sigils. Channeling their energies, she sang.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cast light u~u~pon~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The dar~kened earth</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sa~ave tho~ose</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost in de~e~spair</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The marriage of sigilcraft, witchcraft, and summoning magicks: how better to prove that an intruder was Wazni? As the spell broke at last, the vestiges of the storm imploded, leaving in their wake a bridge of purest ice. The road to Cursa was open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I was wrong about them figuring me out</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The thought froze her vocal chords. She couldn’t bear to face them—not yet, anyway—and so, over their vocal protests, strode wordlessly forward to cross Bifröst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Rainbow Bridge, as it was once known to foreigners who stumbled over the pronunciation, was far more than the ice it appeared to be at first glance. It was constructed of thousands of layers of the highest quality sparkling snow. It was a prism, scintillating with every hue imaginable, as if to make up for the otherwise colorless cliffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entranced, she barely noticed the others scrambling after her, graceless compared to the confident gait of a born Wazni.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m home!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Though difficult to see through the veil of relieved tears, the streets of Cursa spread out before her, white and blue and bright. Couples were skating down the frozen lanes with arms linked. Children slid on their stomachs and rolled magnificent snowballs. And there, watching over them all from above the frosted rooftops, was the Palace of Ice, Kaffaljidhma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Xelha strode purposefully towards the palace, her people recognized her one by one, bowing. Ordinarily she would have greeted each in turn, but, with the War of the Gods on the verge of recurrence, there was no such surplus of time. She kept her eyes focused ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With nary a word nor signal on her part, the doors swung open to receive the queen and her guests. They were immediately greeted by the scent of a venison roast and plum cake; it was likely that one of the sisters had caught wind of their arrival and set the kitchens to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Majesty! You’ve returned to us!” Barnette came bustling down the stairs from the inner sanctum and gathered her up in her arms. “We’ve been so worried—even Glamyss could not pierce the crystal’s fog until just now!” She stepped back and bowed as per protocol. “I shall send word to start the banquet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gulping down the sudden influx of saliva, Xelha said, “I’m afraid we don’t have time for a banquet—the main islands are calling upon Wazn for aid!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So our visions came to pass...,” Barnette sighed, “How may I assist you, my queen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti drifted into her field of vision. “We be looking for the Ocean Mirror!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnette stared, confused, at the odd character before her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As was rapidly becoming his role in the group, Gibari dissipated the tension with an easygoing smile. “Looks like we could all use some introductions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though delivered jovially, the comment was a barb in Xelha’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like,” she agreed, for what else could she do?</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Though hungry, Xelha couldn’t find it in her to do more than pick at her serving of reindeer as Gibari relayed a short version of the events of the past half year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Barnette hummed, fingers idly plucking her cross stitch, “Purification by way of the Ocean Mirror….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Will it work?” she dared ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnette looked upwards in thought. After some time, she nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am certain it will. As well as that I can find some form of surrogate for the other two artefacts in the meantime.” Her expression grew grave. “However, you, Queen Xelha, will have the far more difficult task of retrieving the mirror from the Cloister of Trials.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha froze. “The… Lake of the Dragon?” She hated that a waver found its way into her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips pressed together. One thousand years’ worth of Ice Queens had made the journey, and not a one did so expecting to return. Finally, she asked, “...Did Gram and Leon make it back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to worry, Your Majesty, they’re both fine,” she replied, “Merely out on a foraging mission. I don’t expect they’ll be back before you must set out once more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> I can set out once more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha begged out of the meal to prepare. Not that any amount of preparation could ready her for the Goddess’ Trial.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When the time came to descend to the namesake section of Shiva’s Womb, she was glad that the others preemptively bullied their way into accompanying her. Taboo though it was, their presence on the warp sigil helped her to breathe. She could still remember her mother’s wan smile as she took this same path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the spell’s light vanished and her sight returned, she reflexively gasped—even Gomeisa wasn’t so cold! The cave was dark and trimmed with darker ice, but it was the lake itself that was darkest of all. The water was scabbed over in places with frost but otherwise remained liquid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha motioned for her friends to stay back and stepped forward to claim her fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the sense of absolute cold built up within her, she let it claw its way up her throat, releasing the flurry of pyreflies demanding escape. They hung about her momentarily, then bobbed away in their typical languid manner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she’d feared, their destination was the Lake of the Dragon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause after the last orb disappeared under the veil, wherein it seemed as if the worst would not come to pass. But then a pale circle surged upward from the depths, higher and higher, until it broke the surface in a mighty splash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head tilted back, the woman rose above the waterline with nary a drop clinging to her form. She stood, blank-faced and silent, on the surface of the water. When she did lower her face, eyes no lesser shade than pure cerulean glowed faintly in the dark. For all their vivacity in hue, there was a deadness to them, as if gazing into the glass beads adorning a porcelain doll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hair and gown similarly called such a doll to mind; to be expected, for her inner circle had taken great care in making her look her very best. Every golden wave was perfectly staged. Not a single wrinkle in her gauzy, mermaid tail dress, nor her blue tailcoat—even her conical hennin stood proud, untouched by the whims of the pool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Xelha was sure her friends were buzzing with questions, the only sound to be heard was the distant dripping of water to the floor. She hadn’t told them the nature of the particular cave they were in, but she imagined they could sense it in the otherworldly calm that permeated the frigid air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, there was no sensation quite akin to that of standing in a tomb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s whisper carried to the farthest walls of the cave and bounced backed, taunting her with the distorted pleas of a grieving child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let us begin,” replied the late queen’s corpse, extending her left arm at shoulder height. A trickle of water arced up from the water behind her, freezing upon contact with her hand. It broke off at the base, a perfect replica of the longbow she’d favored in life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha reluctantly called her wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As one, they swept their foci in the familiar dance of a Wazni summoning. Shiva surged into being at her mother’s side, stronger than ever now that she was back in her territory. As for Xelha, her pilgrimage had bought her new understanding of the forces that comprised the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Come forth, Leviathan!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lake of the Dragon rumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It bubbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it erupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aeon moved far too quickly to see as more than a ribbon of ink smearing jerkily through the air. Why became clear when Leviathan halted, coiled loosely around her: the Great Serpent had more in common with an eel than a garter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tail was sinuous, undulating—a pennant of smoke and velvet waiting impatiently to choke those who would challenge his pride. It was a black beyond black. A blackness that swallowed light and shadow into a solid mass, defying all attempts to gauge depth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gradually, as they transitioned into the head, light stripes of navy made themselves apparent, particularly in the whiskered ridges right before the slender point of the arrowlike jaw truly began. There were four such ridges in total: three of which were paired with eyes, the fourth jutting out from the ends of the jawbone. The eyes were emerald almonds with horizontal slits for pupils.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between the eyes and the teardrop nostrils were yet more whiskers, these longer and more flexible. The longest of all were like a catfish, if catfish whiskers ended in bioluminescent orbs. They swished with restlessness as Leviathan waited for Xelha’s command.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her opponent observed her choice with an air of detached curiosity. “An interesting choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva’s lips parted, a regal hand rising in preparation to guide her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now!” commanded Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leviathan </span>
  <em>
    <span>darted</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where Shiva was a glacier—foreboding, indomitable, strong—Leviathan was a river, a waterfall, a monsoon. The serpent barreled from corner to corner of the cave, boring through what few obstacles he couldn’t dodge. He made Shiva, among the most agile aeons Xelha had ever encountered, seem lumbering by comparison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snaking through the series of walls and spears erected by the ice goddess, Leviathan wrapped himself around his rival, strangling Shiva’s entire body in spite of the white crackles rapidly lacing across his tail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha concentrated on the the flow of energy, letting it guide her body into the next spoke of the wheel. “As the rains nourish the seed,“ she intoned, flourishing her wand, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Join us, Pixie!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leviathan’s body fell away like dominoes, a multitude of colored thread taking its place. Where Shiva had been wrapped like a mummy, she was now spun into a cocoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for long, however, as it burst from the fury of the battle within; although Shiva quickly spun out of range, she wasn’t fast enough to avoid the thorns jettisoned from within Pixie’s voluminous sleeves. She counterattacked with a hail of icy darts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The very same petals that had rescued them in the Lava Caves caught each and every one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Shiva hadn’t stopped moving—she circled her prey on a tilted axis, crystal spears jutting up in her wake and flying inwards with shocking speed. Pixie altered their course with sweet-scented winds, causing them to dash their fellows into powder—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—which was apparently Shiva’s plan all along, for the snow compacted in on itself until Pixie was trapped inside a massive snowball.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling their connection weaken with Pixie’s strength, Xelha twirled her wand around her fingers and, when the time was right, swung it forward with a snap of her arm. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Flames, be guided by my will!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant, the snow had melted, leaving a boulder to thud onto the rocky lakeshore. Its surface was spiderwebbed with deep, glowing cracks, from which issued sulfurous clouds, grey and orange. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smoke, with the occasional spit of cinders, flowed continuously upwards, a tether from the volcanic rock to the torso it was coalescing into. Ifrit’s body appeared scaled much in the same way a shale deposit might, though shale deposits weren’t generally known to form muscle tissue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ifrit was wide-shouldered but slender, with visible ‘veins’ of lava pumping through his arms. The molten rock at his core made the rims of each scale pulse with dull red light, creating the illusion that they were moving. At the shoulders, elbows, and knuckles, the rock had hardened into corkscrew horns to match the pair on his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Two</span>
  </em>
  <span> pairs, rather, as just below the first set was another, this one squat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head was skeletal without actually appearing as a skull—in fact, it was more like a mask </span>
  <em>
    <span>designed</span>
  </em>
  <span> after a goat skull than true bone. The eyes, under a ridge just below the pair of small horns, were elegantly carved slits. At first glance she thought he had red eyes with black scelera, only to realize that it was the play of shadow and his internal glow. It was brighter at the nostrils, which leaked excess smoke. The final touch was the wickedly curved fangs beneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fire and ice stared each other down, wary in the face of their rival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the start of her journey, Xelha might have expected Ifrit to move first; fire was, after all, the wild, energetic element, whereas ice was patient in its slumber. But Ifrit was fire tamed—he knew better than to leap against the commands of the hand that fed him. And Shiva, in the face of his warmth, was less able to hold her cool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a snap of her fingers, an icy wind sought to disrupt the smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a snap of his, a grand torrent of magma burst through the floor beneath her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva retreated to the lake, where she dove out of sight. The other aeon, rightfully afraid of the water, kept his distance, contenting himself with materializing orbs of fire. Varying in heat and color, each split in two until he appeared to be surrounded by rings of rainbow stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rings that snapped shut like a bear trap when Shiva rocketed up underneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although she had been caught, it seemed that once again it was part of a greater plan, for she was in no hurry to escape. Nor, as far as Xelha could perceive, to do anything. She remained still even when Ifrit’s claws delicately encased her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For that reason, it was no surprise when other sculptures with Shiva’s face came bursting out every which way. Ifrit scattered his flames to deal with the copies, but for every husk melted (or shattered on the ground, a hole burned through the heart), three more would be flung into the fray. It became difficult to see from the sheer number of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so Ifrit gave up on dealing with the peons and slammed his hand into the ground, sending shockwaves of heat to boil the rock below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the piles of broken statues rose a fully intact Shiva, plunging an icicle-clad hand toward Ifrit’s boulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Xelha, who had been readying for the next summon since the copies first appeared, cried, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anima, to me!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva was forced to dodge debris as the boulder exploded, leaving both a crater and a tear in space in its wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>{Ah, what a clever child you are~♥~}</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anima slithered in as nonchalantly as xer tone. Xe wasn’t giggling, at least, though xe was cocking xer head in far too winsome a manner for xer audience’s comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without warning, xe launched into the air, landing with so massive a shockwave that the surrounding stalactites plummeted as one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva wove through the barrage easily, uncaring of the quaking ground so long as she was airborne.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Kchs-hnnnnaaaaaaaah</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound came from Anima’s bell, which, rather than ringing, xe was holding upright whilst telekinetically tracing the rim with what appeared to be a short wooden baton. A dome of purple energy formed with the bell as its center.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a cry of rage, Shiva was drawn in by the pocket of gravity. Once in range, Anima swung the bell in such a way that it made a sound similar to a clicking tongue, over and over, each stroke boxing Shiva in with a chronos glyph.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>OHNG!</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>The glyphs set off simultaneously, subjecting Shiva to an unstoppable force from every side. She just barely managed to encase herself in ice in time to ward off the worst of the attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One more aeon to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Let earth beget metal!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anima dove back into the interdimensional portal, which spat out a cyclone before closing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storm dispersed quickly, revealing the pieces of junk it had swept up. Among them was a metal rod, which sunk partially into a crack that had formed over the course of the battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The calm before the storm…,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xelha thought grimly, eyes trained on the beacon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, lightning struck from nowhere, crackly outward from the rod to form a vaguely quadrupedal shape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Shiva and Leviathan represented two aspects of the same element, so too did wind and its wilder counterpart of lightning. But it was only having experienced the islands for herself that she realized the truth: lightning </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> an aspect of wind, as had become common to teach prospective mages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One was the active manifestation of wood, the other of metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, having completed the elemental circuit, it took but one blast from Ixion’s horn to end the battle. For just as the elements fed each other, so too did their ritual summoning augment the final blow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother watched dispassionately as both aeons returned to their place inside Xelha’s soul. “Well done, Queen of the Ice Lands. You have earned your reward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then her image dissolved into pyreflies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Mother,” Xelha murmured, spreading her arms to welcome them back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something bumped against her toes. It was a thick-handled mirror, mother of pearl with inlaid silver. In place of glass, it appeared to have a sheet of perfectly clear water. As she lifted it, the surface was disturbed. Each ripple carried with it another Xelha staring back at her: younger, older, regal, divine. By the time she held it before her face, it had once again smoothed out, displaying her as she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Ocean Mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she turned back to her friends, she allowed herself a moment of weakness—rather than reading their reactions to all that had transpired, she smiled and stepped back atop the sigil. “Now that we have the Ocean Mirror, we should be all but ready to face Kalas and Melodia.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Barnette was waiting for them in the ritual chamber, so any concerns they might have been looking to express were compartmentalized. Beside her stood her sisters of choice: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kodelle, the geomancer, was clad in amethyst armor, the better to channel her powers (as well as stay comfortably immersed in her element of choice). She was the eldest by a significant amount, though most of her wrinkles were caused by the circumstances that lead to the three arriving in Wazn. She held half of an object hidden beneath an indigo velvet coverlet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sharing her burden was the youngest, Catranne. She was a prodigy in the long-lost art of evoking, wherein the magnus of objects would be channeled in a manner similar to aeons. A safer, if less controllable, alternative to summoning. Perhaps it was her youth, but she had been the only one to adopt Wazni dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glamyss held her own mystery object. As a seer she was unmatched, for though her visions were less precise than Barnette or Xelha’s, she could control her gift at will. She had never fainted nor lost her powers on account of connecting to the forces beyond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems both our endeavors were fruitful,” said Barnette, peeling back the covering on the first artefact, “Behold, the Spear of Chronos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was closer in design to a naginata, with a heavily curved blade made from the large upper fang of a sabre dragon. The shaft was bronze with little detailing, most of which gave it the look of a bamboo stalk. She vaguely recognized it as the arm of a storied knight of Wazn. It had been extensively burned with an ancestor of modern sigilcraft, that it might absorb and store earth energies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she had done more than glance at Gibari, he was already shaking his head. “Sorry, but I don’t think it would hold up to my kind of play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Considering his frequent excursions into the clouds above, she had to agree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping past the rest, Savyna wordlessly requested the spear. Once hefted, she eyed it critically and gave a couple experimental swings. “Adequate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the wielder chosen, the other artefact was revealed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Glamyss, no!” Xelha exclaimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the Celestriad, the seer’s most prized possession. It was a trio of crystal balls: one allowing glimpses of the past, another the present, and the third the possible. The multicolored star dust within would allow its mistress to cast her third eye across the length and breadth of space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glamyss merely smiled gently and dismissed it into a magnus, which she held out insistently. “I have reason to believe that it wouldn’t be mine much longer anyway.” Her eyes shone with pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha accepted it and asked no more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As for the matter of your departure,” Barnette began, once all were settled as they would, “I had thought to provide you with another ship, but, given the circumstances….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without meaning to, her head—along with her friends’—swivelled to regard their go-to helmsman. His jaw was decidedly unamused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnette beckoned them to follow as she turned away. “The limitations of skycraft and machina alike have been made apparent, and chief among them is dependence upon a pilot’s full attention—hardly a guarantee with Cor Hydrae spilling its ilk across the Sky!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A turn. They were headed towards the hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, what you need is a transport that bears intelligence… that understands what’s at stake….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Her</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Xelha cried in delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if in answer, a deep, shuddering roar was heard from the other side of the door ahead. It was one she was well-acquainted with. One that called to mind a scaled, snowflake-shaped face and wise, slitted eyes. The ancient companion of her bloodline and her best friend growing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Barnette, smiling as she bowed them in, “</span><em>
   <span>her.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 19/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 7/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. In Which Doves Are Bloodied</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fwoosh. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fwoosh. </em>
</p><p>Each beat of the White Dragon’s wings brought them closer to Alfard.</p><p>To Malpercio. To Melodia.</p><p>To Kalas.</p><p><em> I </em> will <em> save you </em>, she swore, the screams of a boy she’d never met ringing in her ears.</p><p>Larikush had the same determination in every line of his exhausted face. He spent much of the journey beside her, gripping his staff and glaring out into the horizon. Unlike when it was new, their companionship needed no words; unlike when it found its legs, the silence did not beget misunderstandings.</p><p>Behind him sat Lyude, doing last-minute maintenance on his magnus in general and machina in particular. The wind was a multitude of hands running through his brilliant red locks, whipping it about like pennants. It was still strange to see his face but, as he noticed her gaze and gave his most encouraging smile, she couldn’t help but feel soothed by his quiet confidence, steady and steadfast despite his frequent self-loathing.</p><p>Savyna was helping him to the best of her ability (which, admittedly, covered all but his most specialized equipment). Every so often, she’d say something lost to the wind. Though she didn’t smile, it was the most open and comfortable she’d ever appeared. Not a trace remained of the prior animosity between them. She didn’t even seem to mind when Mizuti, in an animated conversation with Gibari, mistakenly jabbed their elbow into her collar. </p><p>Whatever the two were talking about, it was no more audible to those in the front than Savyna had been. Based upon the gesticulations, however, it was likely fish stories. Mizuti had a fair share of their own to brag about, based on the pantomiming of a bare-handed catch. Gibari, meanwhile, went so far as to cast a rod and reel in a skyfish, to the other’s explosive, Savyna-jostling applause.</p><p>Somehow, with the apocalypse nigh, the world had never felt so right.</p><p>Nuzzling her cheek against the dragon’s muscled shoulders, Xelha closed her eyes, breathed in the scent of scale-buffing oil, and let her heart swell with warmth and hope.</p>
<hr/><p>Once again, there was nary a sign of Al Fhard in their nation’s capital. More notably, the fiends from before were missing as well.</p><p>Savyna, motioning for their attention, signed that they were to remain silent. She took point on street level, wings drawn but held low and tight.</p><p>Lyude and Gibari exchanged a glance. Within seconds, they were flanking her from the rooftops. Mizuti took the rearguard, while Xelha and Larikush watched the sides.</p><p>So strong did she feel to be part of the powerful formation that it was almost a disappointment when no attack came.</p><p>“If the enemy isn’t in Mintaka…,” Lyude began as they stopped to rest on the outskirts.</p><p>“...they would have pulled back to the Imperial Fortress,” Savyna finished, “We’re walking into a trap.”</p><p>Cracking his knuckles against an open palm, Gibari replied, “Guess we’d better go spring it, get it out of the way.”</p><p>It was difficult to be negative when he was so matter-of-fact about their chances.</p><p>Lyude stepped forward. “While it may not be enough to eliminate the enemy’s home field advantage, I am quite familiar with the layout of the fortress… or at least as it was two years ago.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Two years <em> is </em> a long time,” said Xelha.</p><p>It did nothing to cleanse his sour face.</p><p>
  <em> FWUSH-SH-SH! </em>
</p><p>After the abrupt sound—she’d been informed it was called ‘flushing’—Mizuti threw open the door of the privacy station. “Be magitechnology so bad? These automated chamberpots be inspired! Fantastic!”</p><p>“Um, that’s...,” Lyude started. But his audience was already cooing over the wonder of a self-filling water basin. A small, fond smile overtook his face and he hurried to show them the workings of the household machina.</p><p>“You know, I’ve believed in the teachings all my life,” commented Gibari, “But it seems a little silly that Yevon lumps this kind of stuff in with, say, cannons. I mean, I was right in the thick of things when the Empire tried to pull that promachination shit on Diadem—I can get why that would be taboo.”</p><p>Xelha hummed in agreement. “I haven’t quite figured it out myself—when and why Yevon split. In Wazni Yevonism, it’s only magnatechnology that’s forbidden.” She frowned. “Though even that fell out of practice as people forgot why it had been so. And in the Wezni tradition, magitechnology was considered a noble art.”</p><p>“Yeah? So it’d be fine if I hired somebody to install these bad boys in Elnath? When this is all over I mean.”</p><p>She giggled at the thought of such machina being the centerpoint of cultural exchange. “I don’t think the original Yevonites would have a problem with machina chamberpots.”</p><p>He gave her a playful shove. “Easy for you to laugh; you haven’t spent the last decade trying to get ‘Kahn to give up dairy!”</p><p>To the side, Savyna cleared her throat. “Are we done here?” Though sounding exasperated, she had a mischievous quirk to her lips. “The enemy won’t wait forever.”</p><p>The atmosphere instantly sobered.</p><p>They exited the latrine as carefully as they had every room in the labyrinthine fortress, though there was still nary a sign of opposition. She half-wondered if that, in and of itself, was the trap, for the anticipation of an attack was nearly as fatiguing as the actual trek.</p><p><em> Better than getting complacent </em>, she scolded herself as she tensed at another flickering light.</p><p>It must have been hours of aimless wandering before the party, as one, instinctively stilled. Or rather, picked up on Savyna’s tells before she had a chance to signal a halt.</p><p>They were in a corridor overlooking one of many extravagant courtyards. However, unlike the overblown statuary of the others, it was inhabited by living, breathing humans. Chief among them was a man she struggled to place as General Fadroh of the Imperial Army. Melodia’s accomplice and mole within Alfard, if their brief meeting in the Lava Caves was any indication. He faced away from them, gesticulating to a number of attentive soldiers.</p><p>Whatever he was saying was lost to the space between them, but it caused the neat little rows of soldiers to unravel in the direction of a drape-shrouded gazebo. As each entered, there was a flash of golden light. It momentarily cast an agonized silhouette against the drapes. Then it would disappear and another would enter.</p><p><em> Pitter-patter </em> went her heart in time with the host of insects marching the length of her spine.</p><p>Something was wrong. That was obvious enough based upon everything she knew and was observing, but there was another level on which she was sure. A deep, ancient part of her being—older even than Shiva!—that made her want to scuttle into a dark place, tail whipping frantically.</p><p>
  <em> Ba-dump. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ba-dump. </em>
</p><p>His foot moved first. Sliding to the right, he swivelled with theatrical deliberation, until, at last, his featureless face was staring directly at Xelha.</p><p>
  <em> BA-DUMP. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> BA-DUMP. </em>
</p><p>If there could be any question of whether he was aware of their presence, it was quashed by a single dismissive flick of his wrist. A squad broke off from their fellows in the direction of a nearby door—no, it had to have been an elevator, given their pause to tap at an accompanying podium.</p><p>Sure enough, a whirring sound came from the hall they’d just come from.</p><p>“Move!” cried Savyna. </p><p>Not that the command was needed. Facing a large body of imperial soldiers was all well and good—practically their modus operandi throughout the original pilgrimage—but the wrongness, their location, the sheer numbers at Fadroh’s disposal… by the time the forerunners were defeated, reinforcements would likely have arrived to whittle down their strength. Strength best saved for the masterminds of the current state of affairs.</p><p>And so they ran.</p><p>The sound of armored feet a constant, if distant, companion.</p><p>Or so it was, until they reached a crossroads with only one tenable path.</p><p>“We’re being herded,” Larikush gasped through his gulping breaths.</p><p>“No choice,” Gibari grunted back, before lunging towards the old man and throwing him over a shoulder.</p><p>When at last they were cornered, it was at the end of a long, dim hall. They were caught between a sea of rifles and the unknown evil represented by a large, heavy door. None of the soldiers made a move to fire, but nor did they show any signs of letting their prey retreat to a less ominous area.</p><p>Xelha met their eyes one by one. Calculating green. Defiant vermillion. Resolute black. Furious umber. And a wooden mask that gave an exaggerated, brazen nod.</p><p>She turned and pushed.</p><p>Beyond the door was a platform that tapered off into what was nonetheless a wide catwalk—all six of them could have walked side by side and managed to fit, though it would be tight. The drop off the sides continued into darkness, broken only by the glint of bronze piping, as so many tigers peering through a moonless grove.</p><p>Anything more that might be contained within the cavernous room escaped her, for it was then that she caught sight of the figure lounging on a throne at the other end of the room.</p><p>“Melodia!” she called, striding through the channel the others opened in their ranks, “This has to stop!”</p><p>Expecting a tinkling laugh in response, she halted in surprise as she was stared down with a look of haughty displeasure. Behind her, she felt the others fan out. Anticipating a fight.</p><p>“‘Stop’?” she echoed back, voice as mocking as it was silky, “The rains may be at your beck and call, Your Majesty, but the obeisance of a god is not so easily commanded.”</p><p>“No, it’s not,” Larikush agreed, voice harsh, “By any mortal.”</p><p>This time she did laugh, girlish and cackling. “Oh dear, did you think me so arrogant as to claim His will as my own?” As suddenly as it came on, her joviality had vanished. “It was by mortal hands that His limbs were sundered….”</p><p>A white light as unforgiving as the sun speared up from the shadows below.</p><p>“His body torn into pieces by the rabble….”</p><p> It scaled the walls, ever nearer, ever harder.</p><p>“Desecrated again and again by fools who brazenly thought themselves equal to His divinity!”</p><p>From somewhere behind the throne—and the half-pod structure she could now see sheltering it—the light source came to a rest, dimming but slightly.</p><p>“We mortals have much to answer for,” Melodia crooned, eyes gleaming with zealotry.</p><p>“And that’s why you attacked my homeland?!” Lyude shouted. His body trembled with repressed anger.</p><p>Red sought out red, but to no avail: she seemed to lose interest in them, instead rising, stepping down from the dais, and extending a hand toward the light.</p><p>First came the wings, so luminous as to appear a uniform mass of light. Then the rest of him, his new attire accentuating a svelteness to his figure not readily apparent in his usual bulky robes. Xelha would never admit it aloud, but, without the distraction of him actively attempting to kill them all, it was an uncharacteristically flattering look.</p><p>Moreover, while the Kalas she’d known had had a wariness to his movements—theatrical slouching, hypervigilant eyes, the way he hid his swordsmanship behind a mage’s facade—this one walked with unrivalled self-assurance. The old Kalas shielded himself with a kind of defiant pride; the new Kalas was more relaxed than she’d seen even in his sleep.</p><p>Part of her twinged with doubt; why not let him fall when he so clearly had gained comfort from it?</p><p>Then Melodia trailed the backs of her fingers down his neck and across his collarbones.</p><p>Xelha went cold.</p><p>He accepted the breach of boundaries as casually as anything else. Kalas had not been freed from his demons.</p><p>He had accepted that he was beneath them.</p><p>“Isn’t that right, my dear Kalas?” Melodia continued, moving on to comb through his feathers, “Humanity’s reparations… so very long overdue… we humble mortals shall deliver them from their Sin….”</p><p>“Yeah,” he replied, in so typically irreverent a fashion that she dared hope his entire betrayal was merely a ruse all along, “Anyone who’d get in our way needs to be stopped.”</p><p>Somewhere to her left, Gibari had taken a heavy step, grumbling, “Oh, come on! You can’t seriously believe that?!”</p><p>Mizuti clucked disapprovingly. “The Wicked God be scrambling your brains like eggs! You wake yourself up, Kalas!”</p><p>“Wake up?” Melodia was finally ready to acknowledge them again, smirking so contemptuously that Xelha half wanted to skip straight to fisticuffs. “There’s no turning back once one has been touched by the divine light—to say nothing of how selfish you’re all being!” She paused. “Crying, Doctor? Shouldn’t you be supporting your grandson’s decisions?”</p><p>Xelha risked a glance. It was no wonder he hadn’t said much; between his chest heaving with muted sobs and his tear-drenched face, it was impressive that he was staying on his feet.</p><p>Kalas was unmoved. Figuratively and literally.</p><p>Savyna was next. “Kalas. This is exactly what the Empire wanted of you. Have you become so weak that won’t fight anymore?”</p><p>“Kalas, come to your senses!” In a flash of light, Lyude was holding his ‘Guillo’ persona aloft. Without a wind to flutter in, it was a limp pile of cloth. “It was you who first welcomed me into your guardians—allow me to return the favor!”</p><p>As one, they took a breath and held it, hopeful. The echoes mingled in the space between Kalas and his guardians, the jabberings of jays for all their comprehensibility.</p><p>When the din frayed into silence, the scene was only changed in that Lyude’s arm had lowered by a notch or two. Like fingers walking across an idle student’s desk, a sick feeling plodded up Xelha’s windpipe.</p><p>Melodia was not smiling.</p><p>“Kalas!”</p><p>At the bark of his name, his wings were as the fletching of a hallowed arrow. He hurtled forward—</p><p>—only for the Sword of the Heavens to be caught by a pair of pale blue hands.</p><p>Xelha stepped around Shiva to appeal directly to her would-be foe. “Kalas, is this what Fee would want?”</p><p>Her answer was in the tightening of his jaw more than the words it issued. “Always have to make it personal, huh, Xelha? This isn’t about you—you can walk away right now and I won’t have to kill you.”</p><p>“So you want me to live?” she replied, ignoring the rest.</p><p>Scoffing, he struck the air with a mighty wingbeat, using the leverage to jerk his sword down and out of the weakest part of Shiva’s grip. But he wasn’t satisfied with freedom. Though Shiva was able to evade and counter his responding barrage of slashes and thrusts, they were uncannily matched in speed.</p><p>If she was to free him from Malpercio’s influence, she would need to use the Ocean Mirror.</p><p>If she was to use the Mirror, she would likely need him subdued.</p><p>If there was to be a battle, it would have to end as quickly as possible.</p><p>“Kalas, if you won’t come back to us, we’ll have to defeat you.”</p><p>Pausing in his assault, he stared at her as if gauging her sincerity. “...I don’t know what you’re planning, but you must see by now that none of you are a match for me.”</p><p>Xelha gazed steadily at where she presumed his eyes to be. Then, with a flex of her mana, dismissed her aeon.</p><p>From what little she could see, it seemed his jaw had dropped. “There’s no way you’re serious right now!” Awe gave way to glee with each word until he was laughing again. “If that’s the way it’s going to be… prepare to die!”</p><p>She stood her ground ‘til the last second.</p><p>“<em> <span>Les’z sukk kazq Rola Luozq!!</span> </em>”</p><p>As she spun out of the way, she felt the spray from Savyna’s attack and sent frost galloping along it. The spear of water froze into a much deadlier spear of ice.</p><p>It wasn’t nearly enough to beat the disciple of a god, but it bought them some time. For them to have even the slightest chance of success, they would need to be completely in sync.</p><p>“<em> <span>Nrosv runz!</span> </em> ” cried Larikush, taking his position to the right, “<span>Ztaosbyrozu!</span>”</p><p>Xelha slid under the burst of ice shards indicating that Kalas was already loose again. By the time she’d rolled to her feet, holy magic was hugging her form.</p><p>“<em> Holiaga Flare! </em>”</p><p>“Is that all you got?!” Kalas snapped, flying up to avoid her spell.</p><p>“<em> <span>Keraobo Nrotu!</span> </em>”</p><p>The disadvantage to his new capabilities, as he was no doubt mulling over, was that an unstoppable force was just that, even to itself.</p><p>“You—bastards—!”</p><p>He received a punitive rap on his mask for the swear. “The Great Mizuti would not be speaking so ill-manneredly, if you the Great Mizuti be~! <em> Chronaga Blow </em>!”</p><p>Xelha was already casting her most powerful holy magic. Across from her, Larikush was letting his mana surge. Between the three of them, they could juggle him back and forth for some time before exhausting their stores.</p><p>It wasn’t enough to win. But it would buy time.</p><p>Unfortunately, despite his recent life choices, Kalas was not a stupid man. In a burst of wind and electricity, he had disrupted their rhythm enough to dive towards his grandfather.</p><p>Xelha tried to intercept. As the wind dissipated, it released an aftershock of lightning, which locked her muscles in place. The same seemed to be true of Mizuti, who landed hard against the catwalk.</p><p>Savyna wrapped herself in flames and met him halfway, vanishing into a puff of smoke upon the impact of her foot on his chest. Though the kick did nothing to alter his course, the smoke rolled across his back, reforming into its creator. She plunged her claws into his scruff—</p><p>—but was bucked off in a heartbeat.</p><p>Thanks to a timely bit of medical alchemy on Lyude’s part, Mizuti was recovered enough to catch her by the hand and swing her around, launching her back into the fray with the momentum. Encompassed this time in water, her legs kicked with dizzying speed and power.</p><p>While Kalas was thus occupied, a soft <em> ping </em> rang out, bringing with it relief from her paralysis.</p><p>“Thank you,” she gasped, rubbing feeling back into her fingers as she scanned the makeshift arena. There was no room to cast. At least, not unless she wanted her friends to get caught in the blast. She either needed to rearrange the combatants or find a way to make her spells more precise.</p><p>Beside her, Lyude provided cover fire for Larikush to scramble out of his grandson’s warpath.</p><p>An idea.</p><p>“Lyude,” she said urgently. Excitedly.</p><p>With but a glance he matched her grin.</p><p><em> Holy. Impact. Burst. </em> The sigils came to her as they never had before, inspired as she was by the untested potential of machina.</p><p>
  <em> SCHWING-TING! </em>
</p><p>Keyed onto the sound shock gun, the spell transformed into four bullets that, upon hitting their target, bloomed into an array of light.</p><p>Kalas screamed in pain.</p><p>He soon retaliated, a helix of dark energy surrounding him as he shot toward his attacker. As in the Lava Caves, Gibari moved to shield his less sturdy companions from the brunt of the attack. Even one so strong as him could not withstand the attack without spilt blood, however, and Kalas seemed to regain strength with each drop.</p><p>That is, until Savyna slipped past his defenses and put him in a headlock.</p><p>Where she kept him until Mizuti and Gibari were ready to strike back: the former opened a dimensional hole from which issued a series of heavy totem poles—slamming into Kalas with a series of wet cracks—while the latter grabbed one of said poles and swung it in circles of pure destruction.</p><p>Savyna, meanwhile, backflipped to where Lyude and Larikush had teamed up to pepper Kalas with debilitating shells. In a show of absolute trust, Savyna flitted from one chunk of debris to the next, protecting them without ever glancing back to see where they were aiming.</p><p>Too bad that Kalas had apparently had enough.</p><p>Those terrible white wings flared wide and bright, so much so that all had to shield their eyes for fear of blindness.</p><p>It was only for a moment.</p><p>But then, Kalas, too, knew well the value of bought time.</p><p>“Kal—” was all Larikush was able to get out before he was run through.</p><p>On the other end of the blade, Kalas’ body was realigning and healing. By the sheer amount of blood staining his skin and feathers, it was much needed.</p><p>“Papa,” he snarled back, “This never would have happened if you—”</p><p>
  <em> SCHWING-TING! </em>
</p><p>Whatever Lyude had shot him with, it left him immobilized.</p><p>And then Gibari dropped from the rafters.</p><p>Kalas hit the floor with enough force to bend the metal, pinned face-down beneath Gibari’s impressive build. He lost his grip of the Sword of the Heavens in the process, which clattered down just out of his reach.</p><p>Larikush—or rather, the mirage taking on his appearance—roiled into nothingness. The true form of the white mage stood ever-so-slightly to the side of his grandson’s lunge. A careful eye might catch a glimpse of motion, a flicker of overlapping images to indicate that the spell remained active.</p><p>“Fool boy,” he muttered, voice thick.</p><p>As if in response, a golden glow issued from a pocket in Kalas’ breeches.</p><p>“What is…?” wondered Lyude, reaching in.</p><p>It was the End Magnus.</p><p>“N-no, don’t touch them…,” moaned their bearer, squirming weakly against the hold.</p><p>Lyude ignored him, spreading them like a fan. </p><p>All five were present. </p><p>Licking his lips nervously, he mused, “Perhaps removing them from his person would break Malpercio’s hold over him?”</p><p>Xelha’s breath caught.</p><p>Wide-eyed, she glanced down. Kalas was struggling even harder, nails making a horrid noise as they clawed at the metal beneath him.</p><p>“It’s worth a try,” she murmured, overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness, “We should split them up though… lessen the impact on us….”</p><p>Lyude said something in reply, but her ears were ringing, drowning it out entirely. He must have agreed, for he was holding them out, spread like a fan. Savyna was the first to take one, followed by Mizuti and Larikush. </p><p>Xelha tried to accept one, but found herself feeling curiously detached from her arms. She merely watched, fog-headed, as Gibari took the final magnus.</p><p><em> What’s… wrong with me…? </em> she wondered. Not only did her body feel strange, but she was seeing things: a blue-eyed Lyude, Kalas up and backing away, Melodia hovering above and smirking….</p><p>A hint of alarm wormed enough of the way to her awareness to have her pawing at her magnus holster.</p><p>Scattering the cards on the ground until she found the one she was seeking.</p><p>Opening it.</p><p>The instant the Ocean Mirror was in her grip, Sin’s toxins were flushed away, leaving her to the grim reality.</p><p>“Five End Magnus, five islands, and five foolish mortals,” Melodia was cooing, dropping to her knees beside Xelha, though she seemed more interested in smoothing Lyude’s hair behind an ear, “I was looking forward to having the Ice Queen be a catalyst to Malpercio’s birth, but this is better, wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p>It hadn’t been her imagination—Lyude’s eyes were glowing blue, as were those of all the others she could see. As whatever trance the End Magnus held them in faded, so too did the unnatural shade. Instead, a colored mist enveloped them: purple for Lyude, yellow for Mizuti, green for Savyna, blue for Gibari, and red for Larikush. The mists flowed upwards and formed a ring.</p><p>“Everyone, we have to leave, now!” exclaimed Xelha, trying and failing to rise on shaking limbs.</p><p>“It’s too late,” Melodia purred, “Each of you has synchronized with the god of your choosing—the god that reigns over each island, no matter that their tombs have been harvested.”</p><p>“What…?!”</p><p>Her head tilted skyward in ecstasy. “Don’t you see? Malpercio was five separate gods, siblings feeling and hurting as one! Those wretched Yevonites couldn’t compare to His power, and so they imprisoned Him in every way that they could!”</p><p>She rose, as did, in concert, the dark aeons from beneath the bridge.</p><p>“The Aeons of Malpercio, kept under the thumbs of the Great Families!”</p><p>The End Magnus slid out of their holders’ weakened grips and joined the ring above.</p><p>“The Flesh of Malpercio, brutalized and sequestered from their spirits!”</p><p>Her smirking face slid back down to those prostrate before her.</p><p>“The Fayth of Malpercio, banished to the winds lest their will knit Him back into being. But those foolish mortals couldn’t see that the will of the gods could be inherited.”</p><p>The colors increased in intensity, causing Xelha’s friends to scream and clutch at their hearts.</p><p>“This…! Our… magnus…,” Larikush moaned.</p><p>Melodia broke into peals of merry laughter. “Five immature hearts, incubated in trust and camaraderie… five isolated hearts, reborn as the limbs of the Queen of Wazn…. Five united hearts, under one divine head!”</p><p>“It won’t work!” Ironic in the face of all she had sought to accomplish on her journey, Xelha now clung desperately to the knowledge of their intrinsic mortal weakness. “How can the magna essences of humans take the place of gods?! It doesn’t make any sense!”</p><p>“No, I suppose it wouldn’t to you, sweet, stupid Xelha,” she sneered back. As she spoke, she summoned Kalas to her side with a lazy twitch of the hand. “Spirit. Flesh. The spark of life. And, within Kalas and I, the will to see them meet!”</p><p>He said nothing. Just stood, staring into the light show killing his guardians.</p><p>“Kalas, no!” When a direct appeal garnered no reaction, Xelha called on all of her strength to raise the Ocean Mirror. “Wake up, Kalas! Return to me!”</p><p>She distantly registered Melodia’s turn to ire, but all her focus was on the pristine silver moonbeams challenging the supernova overhead. Kalas staggered under their light, dismissing his hard-won wings for the first time.</p><p>“Augh! No, stop it… Xelha!” As he pleaded, he crumpled to the floor and began writhing. A sulfurous steam rose from his body, first slowly, then accelerating as the Mirror’s power remained steady.</p><p>As if Kalas had been the catalyst to it all, Xelha felt a resurgence of vitality; as did their companions, who were able to achieve uprightness at around the time she managed to stand.</p><p>Lyude, nearly toppling in his efforts to stagger over, asked, “Is it working?!” His voice was fraught with suffering.</p><p>“I—” She cut herself off.</p><p>The three-pronged mask was eroding under the light. And beneath it lay Kalas’ face, contorted in his struggle to draw breath. Each was ragged, weak. He was expiring before her eyes.</p><p>“Something’s wrong!” Possible explanations skittered across her mind, although the only one that was able to find traction was an unhappy one. “Barnette told me the Mirror would free him! Was she… lying…?” She let the artefact sag ‘til it was clear of him entirely.</p><p>His breathing eased.</p><p>Their friends’ seized.</p><p>Arms jerking the Mirror back in place out of sheer startlement, her worst fears were confirmed: the Mirror’s assault on Kalas hindered Malpercio’s drain upon the others and, consequently, delayed his rebirth…</p><p>...in exchange for sending Kalas into convulsions.</p><p>
  <em> No… I—I can’t do this…! </em>
</p><p>She again pulled back.</p><p>The End Magnus flared.</p><p>Coughing and rolling onto all fours, Kalas met her eyes through the veil of his bangs. His were like dark water: inky sclera lit by a sluggish vortex of electric blue. Though the blue of his iris was in a constant state of flux, his pupil remained visible.</p><p>His pupil, which had taken on the form of the Al Fhard spiral.</p><p>“Kalas…,” she breathed.</p><p>“Do it.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Do it. Use the Mirror… before it’s too late….”</p><p>“But what about—!”</p><p>“Don’t worry about me! Pretend I finished my pilgrimage!”</p><p>
  <em> Pretend you’re sacrificing yourself for the world?! There’s nothing ‘pretend’ about it! Kalas, you—! </em>
</p><p>She turned its power back on him.</p><p>Kalas let out a blood-curdling scream.</p><p>Her arms shook.</p><p>He fell and rolled onto his back, banging his head against the floor.</p><p>She tasted blood on her lips.</p><p>His head banged against the floor again and again and again—</p><p>—and her will failed.</p><p>
  <em> Clap.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clap.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clap. </em>
</p><p>Melodia approached, giving Xelha her most winsome smile. “Are you finished playing?” Then she backhanded her.</p><p>Xelha felt the Ocean Mirror crack beneath her weight.</p><p>A mighty force from above kept her pinned, glass shards digging into her hands and belly. She couldn’t hear anything over her friends’ torment and Melodia’s crazed laughter.</p><p>And then there was a thud. Following it, silence.</p><p>Groaning, Xelha clawed her way to her knees. Around her, the others were doing the same.</p><p>“Oh, look, Kalas~ After struggling for so long, they still found their place~”</p><p>Trepidatiously, she raised her head. Directly before her was Kalas, whose attention was focused on the Wicked God of yore.</p><p>Malpercio was a monster. She could scarcely find an inch of his flesh to rest her eyes on that did not unsettle her stomach, so gruesomely formed was he. That ‘inch’—truly it was taller than herself—was the triangular skull nestled between hunched, half-formed shoulders. Blood vessels as thick around as she was coiled out from the collar and spine, disappearing into lumpy arms. Or rather, the chrysalii, frayed like a wasp nest, that took their place.</p><p>As if to balance out the arms’ dehydrated state, the rest of the god was quite moisturized, for lack of a better term. In particular, his thighs were tenuously held together, with exposed muscle fighting against sinew and scraps of moldy green flesh to buckle away from the bone. They glistened with a liquid unidentifiable even in color, clear and yet as pearlescent as machina oil. The calves below were relatively normal, at least, being vaguely reptilian with nubs for toes. The bodily fluid from above slicked the skin in patches.</p><p>However, the open wounds that passed for limbs could not compare with what she wished she could un-realize was more than mere ornamentation: what appeared to be a mottled white sausage looped around the torso like holster belts, upwards until it formed some kind of fleshy halo. Appearances, unfortunately, were not deceiving; the tube was indeed an intestinal track, mucus-coated and pulsating.</p><p>“Go ahead, Malpercio! Let us begin the celebration of your birth!”</p><p>Before the god could do whatever her invitation entailed, Kalas rose. He lifted his right leg. Hesitated. Continued forward with the same lack of resolve until he reached the Sword of the Heavens where it lay abandoned. Again he seemed struck by indecision.</p><p>Another pause.</p><p>Then he knelt and lifted it reverently.</p><p>All at once, the self-doubt in his posture melted away. He righted his course to approach Melodia… and passed her.</p><p>“Kalas?” She sounded more exasperated than anything.</p><p>“I have an offering…,” he said, sounding distant, “A gift worthy of a god….” His steps quickened and he raised the Sword, charging—</p><p>His brilliant, glorious, astounding wings erupted from his shoulders and effortlessly stopped him mid-stride.</p><p>“Oh, Kalas,” Melodia sighed, stepping into the air and climbing to join her creation in looking down upon them all, “You usually pay better attention than that. Once bathed in the light of a god, there’s no turning back.”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“‘No’?” She smirked. “You poor fool. But worry not; we are still Brethren, and I’m willing to forgive the transgressions of my big, stupid brother against our child. That being said….” Her attention turned upon Xelha. “Our surrogates opposed our God’s awakening. See that you punish them as they deserve.”</p><p>He turned robotically.</p><p>
  <em> Tap. </em>
</p><p>Took his first step.</p><p>
  <em> Tap. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tap. </em>
</p><p>In the space of a bare handful of her frantic heartbeats, he loomed over her, too bright to look upon.</p><p>Xelha was forced to keep her eyes on his feet.</p><p><em> White-Winged Darkness</em>, she thought, a melancholy calm descending on her mind <em> ,Who would have thought he’d bear so much light? I suppose there’s only one thing left to do…. </em></p><p>With her would end Shiva, Malpercio’s bane.</p><p>With her would end the only path to reclaiming the long-lost Ocean.</p><p>With her would end the lives of Skyfolk and Earth Children alike.</p><p>And so, for all that would be lost, she prayed.</p><p>
  <em> Cast light u~u~pon~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The dar~kened earth </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sa~ave tho~ose </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lost in de~e~spair </em>
</p><p>
  <em> O~o mi~ighty~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> O~o~o~ocean~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gu~ide u~us  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As we journey through </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The da~ar~kest </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pi~t of ni~ght </em>
</p><p>
  <em> CLANG! </em>
</p><p>The Sword of the Heavens landed in front of her.</p><p>“May Time,” Kalas sang back at her, voice shaky, “Ever fleeting~”</p><p>Her own swelled in response.</p><p>
  <em> ~For~or~gi~ive~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ~U~u~u~us~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ~We who have for~sa~ken~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ~Ou~our so~o~ong~ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ~And bur~ied our fu~ture~ </em>
</p><p>Xelha looked up just in time to witness his right arm grasp his left wing and <em> tear</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 19/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 7/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. In Which Retrospection Demands Its Due</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the hell, Melodia?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was a real scene to walk in on—Melodia in the process of goring their mysterious tag-along to the brain, dark energy choking the air like machina exhaust in an imperial jalopy. The culprit retracted her corporeal soul rot almost guiltily.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, Kalas had Xelha cradled in his arms, just in time to spare her head from meeting the floor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her face was wan from the strain of withstanding Malpercio’s power. That, or it was the sizable volume of blood that was pouring out without Melodia’s nail to act as a stopper.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, Kalas, and I thought you didn’t like having her along~♥~” she laughed, “I’m afraid our cute little moth got too close—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“—to your big, naughty flame?” He sighed in pure frustration. “I thought you wanted her to synchronize with Ar.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With a glare of utter hatred at the woman in his arms, she sneered, “She isn’t worthy of such an honor… not unless our hand is forced.” No further explanation was provided, and she flounced out of the room, returning shortly with his grandpapa.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d had oh-so-many overdue comebacks for his hecklers and yet here he was, missing his opportunity. Being ‘too nice’ wasn’t normally a trait he associated with himself, but the petite Lady Summoner before him seemed to have gotten the post-trial jitters </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, I know how rough it is being a summoner and all, but don’t go passing out.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She jolted to attention, blushing cutely. Her eyes were still halfway to a thousand mile stare, but she at least was making eye contact.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“My apologies, I didn’t mean to stare. I’ve heard about Miran summoners, but I’ve never seen one before.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Says the one in </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> getup.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re pretty unusual yourself. You’re not from the main islands, are you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You could say that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas knew what flirting sounded like. Her tone matched every couple he’d overheard in his skulking around Trill’s place. But clearly he needed to reevaluate, seeing as how she was using it on </span>
  </em>
  <span>him</span>
  <em>
    <span> while he had his deformity on full display.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, she was probably just being friendly. But it sounded genuine AND he was in too good a mood not to play along. And so he shot her an appreciative grin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Next to her, a man in blue armor spoke. “My lady, perhaps we should let this summoner go about his business?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh! Goodness, I have to apologize again.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Goodness’? Is she for real? Sounds like Melodia after a sugar binge.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No big deal. I can claim the aeon whenever I want.” He bowed, just barely keeping the scorn off his face when he paid tribute to the Whale. “Praise be to Yevon.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Praise be to Yevon.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d no sooner set foot in Detourne than he sensed it:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Though he’d been many times before, it was only now that he’d encountered the monster that he recognized the notoriously disconcerting atmosphere of the garden for what it truly was.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He recoiled, struggling to breathe against the onslaught of memories.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So you can sense him…. It’s a wonder the temples didn’t gobble you up!—with as few carry that kind of potential.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d known. She’d promised him an aeon and purposefully took him to Sinspawn.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re awfully quiet, Lord Kalas.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You want me to get loud?” he growled, “I can get loud.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Honestly, if she wasn’t wearing a neck brace (and wasn’t the </span>
  </em>
  <span>ducal heir</span>
  <em>
    <span>), he’d’ve grabbed her by the collar and slammed her into the hedge. In fact, he wasn’t too sure that was entirely off the table.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, Lord Kalas.” Face crumpled, voice breathy, she hugged her midsection tight. “I was worried you might not understand….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t stop being angry. But her clear distress resonated with him. Then came the self-loathing for the sympathy he felt, and the paranoia, and the homesickness. The cords with which he bound his splintered heart together tugged every direction at once.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But it was a maelstrom he was used to, and one that he knew how to ride out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To her credit, Melodia kept a quiet, respectful distance from him while he zoned out and picked at the hem of his shirt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When his turmoil died down enough for words, he rasped, “After </span>
  </em>
  <span>everything,</span>
  <em>
    <span> you think I—my brother </span>
  </em>
  <span>died</span>
  <em>
    <span>, Lady Melodia! I’m going to kill that shitty fiend! And the Emperor and the Whale and everyone else who let it keep coming back!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But to do that, you’ll need power,” she whispered, dew-laden eyelashes fluttering for approval. When he had no response, she extended both hands in supplication. “Lord Kalas, I need you. We need each other. And Malpercio needs </span>
  </em>
  <span>us—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just say ‘Sin’!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She recoiled from his glare, hands rising to hide her trembling jaw. “Sin is but one small piece of Him: humanity’s punishment for our heresy!” Her eyes flared wide, as if reliving an atrocity. “We tore Him limb from limb… bathed in His viscera….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shut up!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lord Kalas, can you imagine the suffering? Your body violated, desecrated, trapped within a magnus like it was garbage!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I said shut up!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lord—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Clatterclattersplash!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia fell silent at the sight of the metal brazier sinking down, down, down below the water’s surface.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas panted, more tired from his anger than kicking it over. Then, pointing at her, he said, “I don’t give a fuck about any of this shit! I’m going to kill Sin and I don’t need your help to do it! And if you get in my way....” He spat into the water where the ripples were still clearing. It was something he’d seen rough men do in every port he’d ever visited.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her head slowly lowered and she nodded. “I understand…. May our paths cross again, My Lord, under better circumstances.” Still canted floorward, she looked up through her lashes to bore her resignation into his eyes. “You’ll have no problem finding me if you change your mind—without you, there’s nothing I can do.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas gritted his teeth, whirled about, and stomped away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Canon Five first, then any other aeons I can find. And if I can get my hands on one of those limb magnus… well, Malpercio had better hope his cock isn’t in one of them.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So he doesn’t have wings?” Kalas tilted his head. “Does he have a cock?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor Larikush turned red. “Where did you hear such a word, boy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mnnn, Commander Giac’mo?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The doctor pinched his nose bone. “Of course it was him. Someone should have a word with that one.” But he didn’t do anything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No one did or said anything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One of the lights flickered. It was annoying. And boring.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas made a spit bubble.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It broke.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So </span>
  </em>
  <span>does</span>
  <em>
    <span> he have a cock?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For some reason, Doctor Larikush made a noise like when one of the lab animals went bad.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, fine, I’ll speak to the boy!” said Doctor Georg. He gave the pile of blankets to Kalas. Then he left.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That man—!” The other doctor left too, very fast.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Subject Fee stared at Kalas.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He stared back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>More staring.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re creepy and weird,” he told him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Subject Fee didn’t seem to care.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Guess you’re stupid too.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Subject Fee stared. Creepily, weirdly, and stupidly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Bet you’re as stupid as Commander Giac’mo.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still nothing. And Kalas was bored again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas would never, ever admit it aloud, but Giacomo was a better cook than his grandpapa. Not by much, and he was convinced that it was entirely due to Papa’s influence, but there was a certain spark that the doctor’s clinical approach lacked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once he was satisfied that Kalas was indeed going to eat, Giacomo began, “I imagine, based on your earlier barbs, that you are aware of the nature of your birth?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He swallowed his irritation with a heaping spoonful of stew. “Gramps used his magical whatever to sweet talk magnus into turning into me and Fee. Blah blah, something about Geldoblame wanting eternal life.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An eyebrow went up. “Not how I would have described it, but accurate enough for our purposes, I suppose.” He took a long drag of his tea. “As you know the </span>
  </em>
  <span>how</span>
  <em>
    <span>, let’s get into the </span>
  </em>
  <span>why</span>
  <em>
    <span>, shall we?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What, there’s more to it than Geldoblame’s creepiness quota?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed with an obnoxious level of feigned weariness. “My boy, regardless of how the Emperor has... declined... as of late, there was a time when he was the best—and only—candidate for the throne. He had ambitions for Alfard and her people.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If I wanted Geldo-ganda, I’d’ve swung by an outpost,” Kalas groaned, “Get to the damn point already.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘The point’, you say? This is politics, boy; nothing is ever that simple.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Giacomo leaned in across the table and pointed to his eye. Without his helmet as a distraction, his mixed blood was obvious: his pupils were as round as anyone without Al Fhard heritage. The only notable feature about his eyes was that the irises matched neither his hair nor each other. His left was a cornflower blue whereas the right was a warmer tone. Kalas could remember hearing (apparently true) rumors about children with only one Al Fhard parent having heterochromia.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He soon resettled in his chair. “We are a marked people, Kalas. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Lost Nations of Fhard?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, what about them?” He took a long draught of his tea so as to surreptitiously glance at the framed map on the wall. It was detailed with territories that hadn’t existed for centuries. Hopefully detailed enough if his bluff was called.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’re proof that we are as much a target of Sin as any other nation! Yevon—” The name was spat. “—teaches that it is our machina that is responsible for Sin’s presence, when in fact its temples shelter the true source!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he’s talking about the End Magnus.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As Giacomo seemed to be awaiting his reaction, he slapped on his most disagreeable expression and said, “This’ll be good.” He added an eyeroll for extra measure. “Go on, tell me a~ll about Yevon’s evil prayer bowls or whatever. We both know you want to.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Bowls? You think too small, Kalas.” He’d fallen hook, line, and sinker, leaning in once more to share his gossip. “Magnus! Magnus containing the sleeping remains of a god!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Five gods, but who’s counting?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Giacomo continued, “It was these magnus that inspired the creation of the Divine Child—ah, my apologies, you might be more familiar with the term ‘Labasu Hqarl’.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe there would be new information after all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It was our good fortune that, at the time, the doctors were running experiments on creating magnus capable of storing living creatures—the so-called ‘heartflask’ made for an excellent base to create life.” Giacomo smirked. “Your life, Kalas.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s it? All that buildup for something I already knew? Something you knew I already knew?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He chuckled. “Of course not. Past experiments involving the Divine Magnus resulted in powerful warriors… at the cost of the subject’s mind and humanity. But you and Fee—! Your magna essences were made from the same material as the god’s prison!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘The god’s prison’? So, what, were we supposed to eat these….” Kalas paused to recall the name that the Al Fhard had used. “...Divine Magnus? Because moving the problem isn’t the same as solving it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Have you heard the tale of </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Mermaid in the Eye</span>
  <em>
    <span>?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It had been a favorite of Fee’s, as were all stories involving the Great Whale. Kalas had memorized three versions in order to spare his grandpapa’s voice. “I’m all for gouging out Sin’s eyes, but you realize she doesn’t win, right? It’s just a metaphor for the Calm.” He said the last bit as if speaking to a child, just because he could.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Humor me. Your unique magnus should process the god’s light in a manner less… </span>
  </em>
  <span>catastrophic</span>
  <em>
    <span> than previous subjects.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘Less catastrophic’? Well, that’s comforting.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Roll your eyes all you like, but you are a magnus incarnate! An artificial lifeform, closer to an aeon than a man. Just think of the power you could claim by consuming the flesh of a god!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good point, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dad</span>
  <em>
    <span>—it’d probably be enough to sack the Empire. Where do I sign up?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Far from taking offense to the proposed destruction, Giacomo shook with a low, wicked laugh. “The Empire? You think too small, boy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Squinting, Kalas waited for him to continue.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t disappoint. “Answer me this: by whose authority do we name something ‘Sin’?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, the obvious answer is ‘Yevon’, but somehow I don’t think that’s what you’re going for.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His grin was downright predatory—not in the way of, say, a coeurl, but a housecat, sated on kitchen scraps and hunting purely for the pleasure of it. “God,” he said triumphantly, “The Canon Five, the Divine Magnus—a singular being possessing such power would be nothing less than a god! Annihilating Sin would be a simple task.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sounds good on paper, but there’s no way it could be that easy,” he scoffed, “For starters, any third-rate summoner could tell you how rough it gets with just one aeon knocking around your soul. Ten? That’s just asking to lose your mind.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something in the other’s eyes made his brain grind to a halt. As soon as Giacomo noticed him noticing, that </span>
  </em>
  <span>something</span>
  <em>
    <span> shifted into what might as well be confirmation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ve got to be kidding me.” It was all he could think to say. “You’ve got to be crazy! Even for Geldoblame that’s—” His jaw slammed shut with enough force to loosen teeth. Through them he growled, “What the hell is wrong with you people?! You’re telling me that you created me and Fee to—to, what, be a glorified purse?! To </span>
  </em>
  <span>die</span>
  <em>
    <span> for you?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas launched himself over the table with the help of his wings, intent on knocking them both to the floor. He’d underestimated Giacomo’s strength, however, and found himself positioned awkwardly on all fours over the meal, wrists pinned to the table.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t be rash!” Giacomo stood and kicked his chair out of the way, then dragged Kalas by the wrists off the table. “It’s no different from what the Yevonites demand of you, save for it being a permanent solution.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unable to jerk free of his captor’s grip, Kalas panted his anger into the meager air between them. With a distant note of alarm, he realized that he was starting to become too upset to work his voice properly. As always, that only made him more upset. And so the vicious cycle rolled back into motion.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Giacomo wasn’t finished though. “For too long,” he hissed, “the other islands have blamed our people for their suffering. ‘Promachination brought Sin’, they squeal, nevermind that data doesn’t support their preconceived notions.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They sit in judgment in their fertile lands and punish us with embargoes, simply for defending our borders! At the slightest hint that we are gathering strength, they form backroom alliances and interfere with our politics! And when Sin slaughters us, they laugh and claim it justified!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His voice dropped in volume and pitch. “The Al Fhard and Al Zhani are all that remain of our once-proud culture. We repeat the same empty rituals to keep the memories alive, and with each generation more is lost. We are </span>
  </em>
  <span>dying</span>
  <em>
    <span>, Kalas, and our fellow nations don’t give a damn so long as the bodies remain out of sight!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you know how I was able to find you all those times? Invariably, one of your </span>
  </em>
  <span>kindly</span>
  <em>
    <span> neighbors would slander you and your family in their cups. The rumors I heard were too crass to bear repeating. And these are the people you would die for?! They would happily wield the sacrificial knife, were it not likely to stain their clothes! Do you think they’ll honor you once you’ve served your purpose? You’ll be written out of history just like all the other Al Fhard who became High Summoner!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Join us, Kalas, and receive your due! You will go down in history as our people’s greatest hero! Be what you were always meant to be!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Giacomo was out of breath by the time he seemed to realize the extent of the burden he’d placed on Kalas. Very, very slowly he released his wrists, stepped back, and waited for his answer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ships were noisy. Distant pistons and hissing pipes and the thrum of motion. For once he wished the unceasing background noise was louder, more disorienting—anything to drown out the noise screaming in his ears and head and bones and gums and—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
  <span>and</span>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas stroked his index fingers up the lengths of his thumbs and dug them into the nailbed. He couldn’t afford to spiral. Not in enemy territory. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even if that territory was his own skin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ve got to be kidding me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Kalas. I know you don’t believe me, but I really do want what’s best for you. I only wish I could have told you when you were younger, so that this day wouldn’t be so—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Get. Out.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are we there yet?” Fee, who was usually so patient and good-natured as to give him the creeps, seemed to be on the verge of noticing that something was wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As such, Kalas bit his tongue out of its panicked stupor and replied in his lightest voice, “Aw, you’re not wimping out on me, are you?” He hoped his brother wouldn’t question his lack of laughter—he still couldn’t hide the jitters when he faked it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know I’m not!” pouted Fee, though he didn’t let go of Kalas’ hand, “I just think we’re getting close to the cliff. The trees are thinning out.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He hadn’t noticed a change. But he didn’t have the uncanny sense of such things that Fee did, so he trusted his judgment.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>More importantly, the thing in the woods had shifted its approach.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Cutting us off from the cliffs,</span>
  <em>
    <span> he thought, calculating his options, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Time for Plan B</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too bad he didn’t have one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Whoa!” he cried, pointing off in another direction entirely, “What was that?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before he could drag them off, Fee had plopped himself in his path. Probably to give his Unimpressed Little Kid Look with full power. “Why are you acting so weird?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas winced; he </span>
  </em>
  <span>hated</span>
  <em>
    <span> when his family went for the direct approach. Lying was a lot easier when everyone beat around the bush and never said anything concrete. “Umm….” Problem #2 with direct questions: he had a million excuses but couldn’t give any of them. He was far too caught up in how he’d rather die than speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Which, unfortunately, Fee caught on to. “Kalas, what’s—?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fee was still speaking. Probably with good grammar and vocabulary and all the other bells and whistles of language.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But the feeling of being watched had intensified and Kalas was having trouble parsing the sounds in his terror.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who-or-whatever was following them was getting ready to strike.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hey, let’s go this way instead!</span>
  <em>
    <span> he tried to shout. He’d later find out that what he actually said was:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s a path!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And then he shoved Fee to the ground behind him, wordlessly bellowed his terror, and threw himself at the threat, reaching into his pocket for his favorite scalpel.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Next thing he knew, he was face down in the dirt with claws digging into his shoulder.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come quietly,” ordered his captor. Her voice was as deep as it was dispassionate. And had the faintest hint of an Al Fhard accent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas’ breath caught in his throat. An Al Fhard. He giggled in shaky relief, not even caring that he was swallowing ants.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Empire wanted them alive. He wasn’t going to die.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The giggles quickly became gasping little sobs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They weren’t going to die.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They weren’t going to die.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We’re going to die,” Kalas whispered to himself, watching as Lady Death stalked closer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Luckily Fee was unconscious, or he’d have had a lecture to deal with.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>WHUNG!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The piston-counterweight-thing swung again. When it cleared his vision, Lady Death had mostly closed the distance between them. He shrank further back into the heart of the battleship </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cetus.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As per usual, the scariest soldier in the Empire didn’t say anything. She didn’t even react to the machina deathtrap she’d followed him into, save to effortlessly weave through the obstacles. He half-suspected she’d used it before as training.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But a lanky twelve year old had the advantage of maneuverability over a grown woman. So Kalas hugged Fee closer and squirmed into the farthest corner he could reach.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing to panic about, see?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She had already closed that added distance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kruh-kruh-kruh-kruh-kruh.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sound was coming from an odd gear setup. There were three rows: the middle was a track containing one singular gear, which was pushed first left by a series of half moon gears atop, then right by the same below. It was a design choice that he was pretty sure was made just to impress someone who didn’t understand engineering.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It gave him an idea.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He quickly shuffled over to be behind it, then kept going. If he could time it right….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“LOOK OUT!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like any good fighter, Lady Death knew a stupid diversion when she heard one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too bad for her that that was precisely why he’d done it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Convinced that he was trying to trick her, she failed to see—or hear over his voice—the incoming gear.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her face crumpled, but not as much as her left arm. And yet still she said not a word.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood sprayed from her pulverized elbow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood everywhere.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Days later, when Kalas regained control of his voice, he had no memory of how he’d managed to slip past the imperials this time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just the face of a woman dying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And her red, red blood.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas knew what fire was. In theory.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In practice?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was hot and red and dry and he hated it more than anything else.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But the doctors were there, and Fee, and Larikush was doing that thing again. The thing where he made shushing noises. If anyone else made them, he felt disrespected. But for some reason it was okay if it was Larikush doing it. Larikush made him feel safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Georg was starting to make him feel safe too. He’d become a lot nicer since Fee was born.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fee, who needed help to move. He wasn’t very good at walking yet. At least he had a good grip.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Now douse the fire with basic spells,” Melodia instructed, watching Xelha like a hawk.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But wouldn’t it be more efficient….” Whatever Xelha’s objection was going to be, she broke it off. “I get it, I think. This will build my stamina, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Exactly, dear.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I wouldn’t bet on it</span>
  <em>
    <span>, Kalas noted, watching the ‘therapy’ session from across the campsite, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Whatever Melodia’s planning, it’ll ruin you</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It left a bad taste in his mouth to see her playing so dirty, so he looked the other direction. Nothing but barren earth and scraggly plants as far as the eye could see. He was already sick of Duhr and they’d only been there a week.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha cried out in pain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not my business. She knew the risks when she got involved.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Nevermind that the risks in question shouldn’t be coming from her own summoner.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t make any more noise, though he could hear every labored breath clearly. She was suffering. And the only ones who knew the truth of it were himself and her tormentor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re doing great, Xelha! I think we can try </span>
  </em>
  <span>-ara</span>
  <em>
    <span> tier now—our little secret~♥~”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha eagerly jumped into the self-sabotage. At one point she nearly passed out. But she had more willpower than common sense, and so she endured.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When Melodia gave the go-ahead to try </span>
  </em>
  <span>-aga</span>
  <em>
    <span> spells, Kalas dug out a primer and devoted himself to it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t enough to smother his doubts.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What have you done?! Have you lost your mind?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His mind?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Removing the power of a god?! By your own will?! How is that possible?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It felt clearer than it had in a very long time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Melodia…,” he rasped, shivering. Bare skin reminded him too much of his time being prodded in the labs. For that reason alone, he should have followed his second thoughts. “In this world… there are things you mustn’t touch.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She scowled. “Since when did you start caring, my fickle crow?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Behind him, Xelha was struggling to her feet, a terrible screeching sound accompanying the action. It was only when he swung to the side to stand as her equal that he saw why.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Sword of the Heavens was trapped in a range of white knuckles, point marring the surface of the metal below. She had also tucked what must have been the Ocean Mirror, broken though it was, into her sash. Although her knees looked seconds from buckling, she raised the Sword aloft, parallel to her unrelenting glare.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas didn’t need to think. He gently added his own hands to steady both her and it. The result was what should have been an uncomfortable embrace.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Instead it felt... right.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia was monologuing again, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t believe I thought Xelha was trying to use me</span>
  <em>
    <span>, he mused, still dumbstruck that any of it was happening, </span>
  </em>
  <span>She should’ve killed me but….</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t need to look to recognize Guillo’s steady presence at his back, nor his grandpapa’s beside him. A heavy footstep told him that Gibari had planted himself there with them. To Xelha’s left, Savyna had stumbled over with a naginata of all things. And, hovering over her shoulder, Mizuti finished the lineup, holding an orb in their hands and two more balancing on their chakrams.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Great Mizuti,” they said, sounding for all the world like they were making a royal proclamation, “be thinking you should go now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The last thing he saw was Melodia’s answering smirk.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 19/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 7/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. In Which Hope Deserts Us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kalas groaned himself awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia. Malpercio. Xelha.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d rolled straight out of bed onto the floor before he even realized he was moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though displeased to note that the flooring was in the Mintakan style, he was somewhat soothed to find that he in no way recognized it. At the very least, he was no longer in the Imperial Fortress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, Kalas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice was familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it. At least, until he looked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!” he snarled, tackling the imperial soldier to the ground, “You were in the Shrine of the Winds!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the red-haired officer who had taken Ladekahn captive. The one who’d ‘forced’ Kalas to gain the Malperciac aeon Le. Up close, he appeared almost baby-faced, with soft features and doe-like eyes. Then again, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been caught off guard—vulnerability was to be expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his minimal credit, the officer didn’t struggle in his hold, though a crease was molding itself into his brow. He lay with careful stillness—the kind of relaxation that could only be achieved when what one was feeling was anything but—as Kalas hunched over him, more out of breath than the level of exertion warranted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What could you people possibly want from me?!” Spittle coated the blank face below as he whisper-yelled. “In case you missed it,</span>
  <em>
    <span> I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> one of the bad guys!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your heartwings would say otherwise,” the officer replied.  The soft voice he used was reminiscent of how Papa talked to him when he was young and upset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas’ anger spiked. How dare he. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> he use </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> patronizing tone </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> make a jab at his wings </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> throw his mistakes in his face </span>
  <em>
    <span>all in the same thought</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he’d fully decided to move, Kalas had his dominant hand wrapped around a delicate imperial neck. Shifting his weight to put more pressure on it, he continued bitterly, brusquely, over what distress his captive could still vocalize, “Yeah? You sure about that? Bet you think your precious ‘Labasu Hqarl’ was brainwashed by the wicked god—” He tightened his grip. “—newsflash, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>chose</span>
  </em>
  <span> to embrace Sin!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ka—l—!” The plea in the gasp was undercut by the ire building in those red, red eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You have no right to judge when you brought a monster like me into your home!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been so repulsed when Geldoblame shot the dissident in Azha. And when Lady Death had butchered bystanders to get to him and when he saw what was done to Xelha’s arm and the beastly relentlessness of the Empire’s pursuit of him and his family—!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, who had plotted against all of humanity? Who had slaughtered those selfsame innocents any occasion they crossed his path? Who had more blood on his hands than any other human alive?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood that would never have a chance to dry unless he destroyed Malpercio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You thought it was a good idea to dump the White-Winged Darkness in your bed?!” Kalas grinned, wide and hopeless and dripping with snot and tears. “How stupid can you get?! I’m living proof that malformed wings are a sign of a malformed heart!” As his voice crescendoed, he flared the one for effect. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d put me down now, before—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thud.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was shocked into silence by his left cheek’s relocation to the floor. Then he began squirming. “Hey, let me up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The imperial had the gall to </span>
  <em>
    <span>shush </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. “Kalas, I understand that you have been through a great deal recently. But I only just convinced Xelha to rest, and I can’t have you waking her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calmer, little details began to snag Kalas’ attention. The soldier was calling both him and Xelha by name. And, moreover, did so comfortably. His voice was familiar, yes, but more than a single, brief encounter justified. And there was something about the cadence of his speech that bothered him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he had no attention to spare for the mystery, for the soldier was continuing, “It would also seem that you have me confused for my brother, Skeed, Commander of the 82nd Imperial Cohort. My name is Lyude, though you have only known me as ‘Guillo’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Well. There’s something that suddenly makes way more sense </span>
  </em>
  <span>and</span>
  <em>
    <span> got way more complicated.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d meant to make some clever comment on the Lady Death/Guillo rivalry. Instead, he found himself saying, “Finally! I was getting tired of all the weird looks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath stilled. Too casual. Too playful. Both for his betrayal and how he’d treated ‘Guillo’ prior to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude laughed quietly though. “I never could have imagined that so many would know their name! It was an ill-chosen alias. On that note,” he said, tone becoming more businesslike, “I’d like to release you. Will you be alright if I do so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—yeah.” Nothing about him was alright but he wasn’t about to freak out again. “I think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the count of three, the deed was done. Kalas rolled to his knees to get a better look at his formerly masked former guardian. Now that he had his facts straight, it was laughable that he could’ve mistaken mild-mannered Guillo for his sneering brother—at least, until his eyes landed on the consequence of his assumption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Guillo—Lyude—had had a delicate neck before, it appeared doubly so with the purple necklace he’d so kindly gifted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Necklace? More like choker</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, then pinched himself in penitence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lashes flicking low and to the side, Lyude matched his own hand to the phantom chokehold. “Ah. I… imagine it’s a less than pretty sight….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wanted to say it but there was a plug in his throat. What would an apology even accomplish? </span>
  <em>
    <span>No unearned forgiveness allowed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Lyude’s eyes were exactly as expressive as he’d always imagined—which was to say they broadcast more than his papa’s jaw after a prank gone horribly right—and they were less than subtle in acknowledging Kalas’ distress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You needn’t look so concerned—it’s nothing a potion won’t fix.” By the time he finished speaking, one was already in hand. Sure enough, the bruising grew fainter and smaller ‘til it vanished entirely. “No one else need know about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas pursed his lips, frowning. “...That how you guys plan on dealing with me? Slap a bandage on a whole island and call it a day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude regarded him in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, too emotionally exhausted to convey the desperation pumping through him, “You know I’m right. Even if you guys are dumb enough to take me back, it’s just going to cause you more problems down the line; no one in their right mind is going to trust people who protect someone like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude’s eyes narrowed. The resemblance to Melodia—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he scolded himself, exiling his unease to the farthest corner of his mind, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and not just because of the spirals</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Which were less spirals and more like pinwheels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Be that as it may,” began Lyude, leaning forward. His sidebangs swung artfully in front of his face and he took a moment to slide one side behind the ear. “The influence of your ‘dumb’ friends cannot be overstated. Between the six of us, we—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He couldn’t bring himself to care about cutting in—if anything, the other’s look of mildly offended bemusement added to the crooked grin slinking onto his face. “Only </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> allowed to make fun of dumb friends!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, shit, I called them my friends—!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>However, far from taking offense, Lyude’s hair came loose again from the force of the titters he tried in vain to hide behind a hand. He was still laughing when, rising to his feet, he offered a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely able to believe it, Kalas accepted. At first he took it symbolically, but, upon standing, he felt light-headed and weak. Almost as if expecting it, the other slid a supportive arm around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his confused noise, Lyude explained, “Xelha warned us you might feel unwell after removing the tainted wing. We wanted to ensure you were physically stable before taking you to… uh… her homeland to receive the cure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was some pause there,” Kalas drawled on instinct. He winced; he’d barely started to turn over a new leaf and already he was falling back into the bad habits that had necessitated it in the first place. “Uh, sorry. What I meant to say was that Melodia’s been insisting that Xelha was some kind of fairy tale queen since the liner to Diadem. If I’m reading this right….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude started to turn, until Kalas’ added weight apparently unbalanced him. Stepping forward to catch himself, he readjusted his arms and led them into the hallway. “Yes, Xelha is Queen of Wazn… I would hardly be able to conceive of it myself, were it not for her unquestionably regal presence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas wasn’t allowed to dwell on the revelation, for then Lyude brightened and said, “It’s early still, but you must be famished from being asleep so long—would you care to help me prepare breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While they waited for the yeast to work its magic—apparently freshly baked bread and beghrir were the only proper way to celebrate the return of a traitor—Lyude filled him in on what he’d missed while galavanting around with the forces of Cor Hydrae.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was halfway through describing the awful trek through Gomeisa when the stumbling walk of a certain Doctor Larikush clomped into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas didn’t dare meet his eyes. “Um, hi, Papa,” he said to the floor instead, “I’m sor—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any hope of finishing his apology fled with his breath. His grandpapa was clutching him to his breast with more strength than was probably healthy for his old bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Neer kea!</span>” he scolded, raspy and fierce, “<span>Les’z aey ufut le zkoz ze su oboas! A zkeybkz A’l rethz aey, sa dtuvaeyth thzotrasb, osl zkath zasu net beel!</span>” He rocked them back and forth and back and forth while Lyude watched with a misty smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In truth, the motion was making him slightly nauseous, but he couldn’t bear to disappoint Papa. Especially after all that he’d put him through. So he hugged back just as tight, whispering, “<span>Thol net aey. Thol—</span>
  <em>
    <span>thetta</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A’s thetta, Dodo.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandpapa all but dissolved into joyful wails, though if it was in response to Kalas opening up, using his manners, or managing to speak a complete sentence in Al Zhani was unclear. What he was saying was no help in figuring it out, as it seemed to be nothing more than a string of unflattering endearments—’my dearest jackass’? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really?</span>
  </em>
  <span>—filtered through ugly crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a stroke of unlikely fortune, it was the arrival of Savyna that saved him, no doubt roused by the increasingly boisterous group in the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something odd about his childhood boogeyman eyeing him with such wariness. As if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who had been codified as death incarnate. As if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a looming threat instead of a teenager covered in flour, barely able to stand on his own for more than a few minutes at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She, he knew, would be the greatest challenge to convince to let him roam freely. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Papa and Lyude are sure bets.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Their actions in the short time he’d been awake had cleared any doubts he could have. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gibari is textbook go-with-the-flow. Mizuti is…. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tried and failed to come up with a suitable adjective. ...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mizuti lives for this kind of bullshit. And Xelha….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A pang lodged itself in his sternum. Xelha, the born nemesis to Malpercio. Xelha, his first (non-heretical) guardian. Xelha, who had found the one thing that could’ve saved the world and chose his sorry ass over it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time and place,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he scolded his brain</span>
  <em>
    <span>, You can moon over Her Divine Majesty later.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He chose not to examine why the latter thought came with less sarcasm than intended. Doing so would just make the coming journey more than he could bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unreadable as ever, Savyna gave him a perfunctory nod and continued into the kitchen, stating as she passed, “I’ll be expecting a full report, soldier.” Before he could process, she was joined at the hip with Lyude, listening to his pancake instructions with the same gravitas she did strategy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” he agreed lamely. He steered clear of that corner of the kitchen, even when Papa joined them to demonstrate a technique Lyude hadn’t quite mastered, leaving Kalas alone with a countertop of scraggly vegetable scraps.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe… this wasn’t a good idea. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He scooped them into a pile and made to toss them out. Realized he had no idea where Lyude disposed of the waste. And there were no onion skins for him to hide behind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>First cheese, now carrot stumps? I’ve really got to stop making everything a metaphor if I want to get anything done.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not that such peptalks had been effective in the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was mulling over if he should just </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Gibari sauntered in. Though clearly not fully awake yet, the consort-to-be took one look around the room and ushered Kalas away, unrelenting arm thrown over his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too many cooks in the kitchen, huh, kiddo?” he laughed, jostling him in what was probably meant to be a playful manner, “Come on, let’s let them do their thing. Besides,” he said, drawing slightly to the side to give him a once-over, “you could use some real clothes. No offense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was at that moment Kalas realized, mortified, that he’d been wearing his Angel of Darkness getup the entire time. A few of the bodice feathers had been bent out of shape somewhere along the way and his breeches looked like they had gotten the business end of a pack of rockcats. He was missing his mask and shoes entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimacing, he replied, “No arguments from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the spirit!” Gibari clapped him on the shoulder and led the way back to the living quarters, whistling a shanty all the way up the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas took the first step and, when he lost his balance, reflexively called upon his heartwings. Between his missing winglet and the inexplicable weakness of his natural wing, he only toppled faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then stopped midair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though his mind immediately went to Xelha, he just as quickly thought better of who would be the more likely candidate. “Thanks, um… Great Mizuti…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, a spinning bird popped into view, followed by their multi-tiered hat. But, just like Lyude before them, they had chosen to go barefaced.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, Mizuti looks younger than</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fee</span>
  <em>
    <span>! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The round, cheerful face beamed and sent a wink his way. “A little spill be no problem for the Great Mizuti~! Up Kalas gets!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He floated to the top step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a relief to see one of his guardians completely unaffected by his… recent life choices. At least it was, right up until he noticed that their skirt was missing a couple panels in the front.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How would that even—</span>
  </em>
  <span> His mind raced through scenarios of what could have caused such a clean removal. One in particular he kept circling back to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No… no, I couldn’t have—I don’t remember doing anything like that! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He half-raised an arm, an unspeakable question on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeming to interpret it as a gesture of thanks, they cut in, with a jaunty wave, “Need to be quick, you do—the Great Mizuti smells something scrumptious! I be seeing you at breakfast, Kalas!” As quickly as they had bounced in, they disappeared around a blindingly shiny corner, humming the same song as Gibari.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thanks to Mizuti’s intervention, Kalas had barely fallen behind, and was able to catch up before his guide noticed. To his surprise, they bypassed the room he’d slept in to enter the neighboring door. The soft burr of a snore rumbled to his ears, one that he’d become very familiar with over the course of the past half year.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So this is what a queen looks like</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought in fond amusement, staring at Xelha’s face as she drooled all over her pillow. She hadn’t even bothered with her nightgown; save for her wraparound, which was crumpled atop her footwear, she was in her summoner garb, heedless of the wrinkles firmly in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the boudoir opposite the bed, Gibari whispered, “Wipe the goofy grin off your face and try these on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he saw what Gibari was holding up, it was hard to pay mind to anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all pitched in with what we had,” the other said, quite unnecessarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Kalas </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> those clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cape was obviously a donation from Lyude, with only ‘Guillo’s’ signature headgear missing. Somewhere along the way, the bottom had become tattered, but the material was so high in quality that it would be a waste not to repurpose it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A plain leather breastplate was matched with pouches of the same—no doubt Savyna’s handiwork, given how it favored practicality over form—the latter of which were hung on what appeared to be a fisherman’s belt. Though simple in pattern and design, it had been woven with strenuous activity in mind. And even if the fibers should be strained, its buckle was fashioned from a protective amulet, all but guaranteeing it would take deliberate effort to cut through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scraps of his own clothing made up the main body. The ray-moo fur, which he was surprised had survived the caves in any capacity, had been reworked into knee-length pants and a pair of arm warmers, while the filler wings had been cut into strips and used to adorn the breastplate. Even his current garb had contributed, as the missing length of his breeches was now a set of puff sleeves and fingerless gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final touches were leg wraps (the same as Papa wore), his shoes (was that… blue paint?), and a scrap of a loincloth in star-spangled blue cloth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-this….” Kalas cut himself off before his thickening throat could come across in his words. “Thanks—</span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It took Kalas awhile to put on his new clothes, so worried was he that he’d tear the patchwork gift by mistake. And then it took more time still to convince himself to join the clinking silverware downstairs. When at last he worked up the nerve to enter the dining room, everyone paused mid conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha. Papa. Lyude. Savyna. Mizuti. Gibari. They were all there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so Kalas closed his eyes, bowed his head, and breathed, “I… know I have no right to say this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha and Gibari had looked ready to speak. Instead, they exchanged a look and, faces settling into neutral expressions, sat attentively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t ask you to forgive me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t deserve what forgiveness he’d already been granted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once everything’s over, I’ll do anything you want to make up for what I’ve done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that there was any act great enough to undo the lives he’d ruined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But for now....”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For as long as you’ll have me….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia and Malpercio can’t be ignored. It’s a little fuzzy, but I remember their plans. I… have no right to ask you to trust me after everything that’s happened….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hell,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I</span>
  <em>
    <span> don’t trust me not to fold like a bad hand at the first sight of Mels.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m only one person! Worse—I’m a summoner with no aeons! I can’t do anything on my own!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though his body begged to crumple to his knees, he stayed upright, bowing so deep as to expose the back of his neck to his former companions.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Moment of truth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I beg you, everyone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t finished what he was going to say, but a coughing fit interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said it, Lyude,” laughed Gibari, the sounds of back thumping following. In a more serious tone, he continued, “Come on, how many times have we got to say it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, at least once?” Kalas was saying before he could stop himself. “Uh, sorry, I meant—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandpapa didn’t let him finish. “Sit down and eat your breakfast before it gets cold, boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yes, Papa!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s like deja vu</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought as he watched his plate be piled high, much as it had been on his journey to Alfard, </span>
  <em>
    <span>How long’s it been since I had that chat with Giacomo? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The timeline was probably the foggiest part for him. Mostly on account of how little he’d cared after bathing in Malpercio’s light—what was time to a god? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t believe I’m actually worried about Giacomo.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna, of course, was the first to pounce. “These plans you mentioned...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a testament to the gravity of the situation that no one protested such a heavy mealtime topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys probably noticed that Mintaka’s a full-on ghost town right now?” At their confirmation, he explained, “That’s not totally on us. Things didn’t go down the way they were supposed to in the Lava Caves—Melodia was counting on the imperial chain of command being totally destroyed, leaving Alfard to go full anarchy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geldoblame lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and having the best PR of his life—having a meaner, scarier monster show up will do that.” He held back the urge to eyeroll. Barely. “A little monologuing here, some forced conscription there, and he’s replaced the soldiers who followed Fadroh and then some. And then there’s that guerilla faction….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“K.E.S.U,” said Papa, nodding knowingly, “Alfard is divided, true, but with a common enemy….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To say nothing of the potential for a pan-Island alliance,” Lyude added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which prompted Mizuti to chime in. “The Great Mizuti need only call upon the Children of the Earth and they be joining us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, exactly. You can guess how thrilled Melodia is to have her precious baby targeted before the glue dries. Malpercio may be a god, but he’s still not going to like six armies showing up to punch him in the face.” He paused and glanced at Xelha. “Seven armies?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need Savyna’s impatient stare to know he was getting off topic, but it definitely helped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, the main forces from Cor Hydrae are blockading Alfard until Fadroh’s goon squad can take out Geldoblame and that K.E.S.U. thing. Last time I was involved, we had him pinned down in Nihal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you were in the Lava Caves when we went after Ifrit!” Xelha gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured he’d be hiding out in one of the deeper areas.” He shrugged. “Either there are tunnels so deep even Malpercio doesn’t know about them, or Geldoblame is holing up in Azha. If I’m sure about one thing, it’s that he’s not roughing it in the desert with most of his army.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude gave a concerned hum. “Tensions are already high between the Al Fhard and Al Zhani, most recently due to Operation Sweep. We shou—” He broke off to cough twice into a handkerchief. “Pardon me, my throat was dry.” He continued from where he left off, laying out suggestions for how to get the necessary supplies for the trip in the current resource-limited circumstances.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas narrowed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> like he was lying about the source of his cough. But then, Kalas had barely known his true face for a few hours. If the others didn’t find it strange, it would make sense if he was just jumping to conclusions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was one thing Kalas had always had faith in, it was his ability to recognize when life was about to throw him into melodrama and thereby skirt around it (recent events notwithstanding). The facts were simple: ‘Guillo’ had hardly ever coughed except for effect, Lyude had been doing so on and off for the entire time Kalas had been in his company, and a sick teammate would be the shit icing on the crap cake that was his life at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so he looked closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first glance, Lyude looked the picture of health: glowing skin, perfectly groomed, as energetic as he ever got.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pass me the butter?” Kalas asked him innocently, taking the excuse to lean in closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas knew what a face in makeup looked like. Sure, it was skillfully done, but he could see the places where it was a hair too thick or the blending was off. Furthermore, Lyude’s eyes were screaming fatigue and discomfort, at least in the way Papa had taught him to look for it. Lyude was hiding some sort of illness from the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why though? I’d get it if Papa weren’t around.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Even placing the blame on Lyude’s humble nature couldn’t fully explain it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unless he thought that Papa wouldn’t be enough.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas busied himself with bread, stewing.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>As it turned out, they hadn’t needed such thorough preparations to enter the village.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas had made it a point to hobble out in front of the others, ignoring their obligatory protests—they could fuss all they liked, but they knew as well as he did that his only use had been fulfilled at the breakfast table. There wasn’t much point in keeping him alive except as a sword to fend off enemies, another body to divvy out burdens to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, rather than a bullet, he was met with a gaggle of dirty children, small in both stature and gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zku Lafasu Vkarl! Ku’th kovv, ku’th kovv!</span>” they chanted, bony fingers attaching to whatever hold they could find in his clothes, “<span>Otu aey beasb ze thofu yth, Aeyt Retlthkad?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Save you? That’s hysterical—I couldn’t even save one of you!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fee’s voice echoing in the corner of his mind, he swallowed hard and stammered, “<span>A’s… sez o beel sos. A vos’z… thonu?... </span>
  <em>
    <span>thofu</span>
  </em>
  <span> osa esu—</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude appeared at his side, interrupting with, “<span>Kkoz Retl Kalas suosth ze thoa ath</span>—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The children lept back at the sight of his imperial uniform. Despite their obvious fear, none so much as gasped in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—<span>koaz!</span>” he cried, pointing to his eyes. It appeared to have the intended effect, calming them further than the arrival of their supposed savior. “<span>Ku otu zku thosu, thuu?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still they hesitated. Then, a brave little girl eased forward, weight distributed to bolt at the first sign of trouble. A few others dared to follow her example, each emboldening the next, until Lyude and Kalas were surrounded by a solemn ring of children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude bowed before their jurors as if they were the most esteemed gentry rather than bedraggled urchins. “<span>Retl Kalas ath thzarr tuvefutasb ntes kozzrasb Sin. Ku suul ze thduov kazk zku Usdutet, an aey vos deasz yth as zku tabkz latuvzaes</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas hadn’t totally followed what was said, but he didn’t need words to understand the array of annoyed and disgusted faces at the mention of their ‘usdutet’. And so he did what he did best and rolled his eyes as exaggeratedly as he could, whining, “<span>Usdutet Nyvvnovu….</span>” He turned towards his grandfather’s aggravated groan. “Hey, Papa, how do I say ‘bailed on me’ in Al Zhani?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear the his teeth protesting their owner’s refusal to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it mattered; in the end, Kalas’ goal had been the giggles of the children, who were more than happy to whisper Geldoblame’s newest epithet amongst themselves. Topping off his victory was Lyude glowering at him with all the malice his angelic face could muster. If looks could kill, Lyude’s would bestow immortality. Somehow it was vindicating to see something other than pity in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More importantly, the kids were eager to help, now that he’d identified himself as one of their own. Not as an Al Zhani, not even as one who hated the Emperor—no, he could see in their glittering black eyes that they knew gutter trash when they saw it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all that he may have had a home and loving family to go back to, Kalas knew the sting of every scrape and bruise they carried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all that he was addressed with reverence, Kalas knew what it was like to be hunted down and spat upon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all that he’d never had to worry about his bodily needs, Kalas knew all too well how it felt to be willfully overlooked, whether by passing strangers or family getting caught up in their own obsessions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Lyude and Papa could think whatever they wanted. He himself had no qualms about passing the youngsters a sly, sideways glance and a spare dagger magnus. And if his grin was a touch too feral, it was because he saw it reflected back at him by gleeful understudies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the pack of delinquents-in-the-making had led them as close as they dared to the grandest hovel in Azha, the kids had amassed a small fortune of medicine, blankets, and, predictably for a group containing both an angler and Xelha, fish guts. They scampered off with their prizes, save for the ringleader.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After staring for a moment, she muttered, “Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he replied, holding his hand out for her to shake. Those two words might as well have been a full-on heart-to-heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piscella.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “<span>Bafu zkus kurr, Piscella</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piscella grinned and tromped off after her friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time to face the music</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or not, as Papa stalked forward to take his irritation out on whatever idiot got in his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dumbass du jour was a belligerent guard just outside of Geldoblame’s personal room. For reasons that Kalas assumed were laid out in what even he thought to be an entirely too cuss-laden tirade, they dug their heels in further upon noting that one of the intruders was an unimpressed Lady Death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem was solved by Gibari picking them up and placing them beside their partner, who had taken one look at the collection of fugitives and traitors and become deeply and spontaneously intrigued by the ornate rug that had been thrown over the dirt floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbass took a second gander at the reward-to-risk ratio of doing their job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was sure to give them a sarcastic two-finger salute as he pushed his way to the front. Lyude and Savyna, per earlier discussion, positioned themselves at his left and right, while the others arranged themselves to ensure that the negotiations wouldn’t be interrupted by unwanted guests. Truly a formation that maximized their ability to retreat </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the make-Geldoblame-shit-his-pants factor (with a dash of Lyude to keep the conversation relatively civil). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was time to cross the lion’s threshold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There he was: a peacock emperor on a rocking chair throne, being fanned by resentfully glaring Al Zhani. A bare handful of bodyguards stood at attention at the walls. Obvious pushovers, one and all, and proof of how hurting the Emperor was for support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas,” hissed Geldoblame, hand straying towards what Kalas knew to be the location of his magnus holster, “I see you’ve come slinking back from your little powertrip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t let him get to you, don’t let him get to you….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With that mantra on repeat, he put on the most sincere smile he could and said, “Emperor Geldoblame, we’ve come to warn you about—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the Emperor‘s attention had already shifted onto the two at Kalas’ side. “And why,” he drawled, somewhere between smug and furious, “do I see the face of that Lyuvard mongrel before me? I could have sworn I last saw it dangling from a noose like a common thug.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ignore him, ignore him….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Malpercio’s plans for the Empire and you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame was too incensed to listen, and growing more so with each familiar face he spied. “Lady Death?! Gallivanting about with this accursed raven and his pet dung beetle, are we? How the mighty have fallen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re one to talk,” Kalas groused in a manner he thought internal... until Geldoblame’s neck audibly cracked as it snapped back to him. He bought some time with the Eye of the Whale, just enough to figure out the angle of his spin. “That’s why Fadroh joined Melodia—to stab you in the back and laugh it up. He knew there was no other way to win against you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame gave a theatrical sniff. The effect was somewhat ruined by his cosmetics melting in Nihal’s heat. “In the threefold heart of enemy territory, yet still you would insult me with your child’s grasp of politick?” He drummed his metal nails against the chair’s arms. Each was a woodpecker’s beak on the worn piece. “If you’ve come to beg, do it properly or get out of my sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hundred snarky quips pounded against his cheeks for attention. With all his strength, he kept them contained, though he couldn’t do the same for his snarl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see you’ve finally been trained to hold your tongue—I suppose I have Her Grace to thank?” Despite having at long last triumphed over Kalas’ smart mouth, Geldoblame didn’t seem inclined to bask in his gloating the way he normally would. He merely held his gaze, cold and imperious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Combined with the murmurings of Malpercio’s residual power, the haughtiness beating down upon him reminded Kalas of his first venture into the Lava Caves. The overpowering presence there, stifling self-sufficiency in all it touched… Emperor Geldoblame had an echo of its command at best. But an echo carried with it the memory of its source, reverberating against his will to resist until each metaphorical knuckle had been shaken loose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas realized, dazedly, that his forehead was scraping the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Determined to make his supplication look purposeful, he tuned out enough of submission’s lullaby to straighten up. What greeted him was a gaze turned approving, though no less degrading for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he found himself staring stupidly up at Lyude’s ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame seemed less impressed with his view than Kalas was, drawling, “I see these two years have done little to curb the impertinence of the Angel of the Rabble. Or will you join your master on his knees?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Excellency,” Lyude began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any lingering desire to be tamed fled in that moment—while it was tempting to switch the source of subjugation to the violence promised in those two words, Lyude sounded so righteously </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissed</span>
  </em>
  <span> at what Geldoblame asked for that he couldn’t bring himself to do disrespect his friend’s wishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead he sat back on his haunches and got comfy to watch the showdown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was appropriate that the one who’d been addressed was the Angel of the Commons rather than Lyude, son of Lyuvann, for there was no gentility to him, save for his pretty words. This was the stoneheart trained in the ways of an assassin. This was the defender of the little folk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the praetor of Mintaka.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you are no doubt aware, the other nations have formed an alliance,” he continued, “We stand before you on their behalf, not only to welcome you into that same alliance, but that Alfard be spared from the machinations of Cor Hydrae and her ilk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame sneered, “And what price does the upstart king demand for his assistance, hm? What riches are craved by the lord without claim? What caveats has the Fairy Guide before she will deign to rise from her throne?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None,” he answered, unwavering in voice or posture, “For we Children of the Sky to survive this onslaught, we must put aside our quarrels and join our hearts as one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘None’, you say? I have heard such promises before.” If their outcome wasn’t made obvious by his choice of words, the bitter tone could have clued them in all on its own. “It’s ever the same with the Yevonites—they make their pretty little promises and cower behind imperial might, then raise blades at our flanks and demand reparations for our mere existence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude’s hands, folded neatly in the small of his back, gave a twitch. “We understand your reluctance, Your Magnificence, but know this: while we have come seeking a mutually beneficial alliance with the Empire of the Flame, the will of one man is not worth that of a nation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was telling that even the Emperor dared not break the silence. Kalas would have to remember to buy Lyude lunch or something for that minor miracle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pause had apparently been to make his next words all the more devastating:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our presence before you today is more courtesy than necessity in achieving this goal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Make that dinner</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Kalas ducked his head into the mantle of his new cape to hide his glee. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Way to go, Lyude! Now I know not to underest—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>WHOOSH~CRACK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THUD.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts were interrupted by Lyude’s unconscious body hitting the floor before him, one of Geldoblame’s bodyguards setting his baton atop his shoulder guard. As quickly as he’d stepped in, the guard melted back into the ranks closing in on Kalas and his companions. Geldoblame had stood up at last, pistol trained on his former subordinate. A warning to the rest of them: fight back at Lyude’s risk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aware of the thin, thin ice he was perched on, Kalas shifted slowly to something more resembling a squat. Something he could work with if things continued to go tits-up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Courtesy’?” echoed Geldoblame, an ugly snarl forming ravines in his more resilient patches of makeup. His baleful gaze was directed not on the culprit, but Kalas. “Was it the same courtesy that drove you to slaughter your countrymen? And now, in the wake of your madness, it draws you back to peck clean our bones?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against his will, Kalas’ eyes slid down, the discomfort of eye contact increasing exponentially under the tension. “You don’t have to tell me twice—I’m a real piece of shit. But I’m the piece of shit that’s going to save your life if you can shut up for two seconds!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...I should really look into some kind of etiquette lessons before this is over.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He almost managed to intend to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unthinkably, Geldoblame </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignored </span>
  </em>
  <span>him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he snapped his fingers, cueing one of the soldiers to nudge Lyude upright, that the Emperor could wrap his free hand in red locks. Lip curling, he pulled his captive’s head back with one vicious yank, scanning it with a degree of loathing that Kalas’ best efforts had never been able to provoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The face of an ‘angel’,” he spat, once again screaming bitterness, “You should be grateful that I have chosen to grant it immortality.” He let Lyude crumple back to the ground. To the soldiers, he said, “Remove these traitors from my sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Your Excellency!”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When they were led to their cells—which, to his dismay, were small hollows in the bedrock of an abandoned mine shaft and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Lava Caves he’d so meticulously scouted—the others were already there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Machina gas</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Papa grumbled in explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard outside his cell jabbed backwards through the wrought iron grid with her rifle. “<span>Se zorhasp!”</span></span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was that.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Geldoblame let them rot in hungry silence for three days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the fourth, Xelha watched as Kalas, Larikush, Lyude, and Savyna were blindfolded and herded away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anticipation swelled in her muscles as surely as did mana in her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Strike, do you, before the iron is warmed?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“What other choice do I have?” she answered under her breath, “If I don’t do something, they’ll be executed!” At least, according to the night watch, who didn’t take as much care not to speak as the other shifts.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>...The bars are poorly joined on the bottom left.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, they were held in place by a thinner set of nails, as if the constructor had run out of supplies (and motivation). Xelha edged closer…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...and barely dodged the cattle prod that the guards had taken to carrying around. He was persistent, however, and her ‘cell’ was barely larger than a broom closet. Her muscles locked up as she was repeatedly shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ok, ak zqu jap, jol koan khowasp zqu teew kazzru pyowlk</span>~?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a moment for her to realize that the deep voice had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> come from one of the guards. That moment was enough for her mysterious benefactor to fell the ones who’d gathered in front of her with a storm of well-aimed knives. She caught a glimpse of a leg, which just as quickly disappeared into a whirlwind of motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha gasped as white magic flooded her abused system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her view of the one-sided battle was blocked by a crowd of Al Zhani workmen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost as soon as it had begun, the fight was over, and she and her remaining friends had been freed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Otu aey K.E.S.U?”</span> asked Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice’s owner laughed. “Only me! These guys are just... concerned neighbors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman was tall, with thick auburn dreadlocks and matching stubble, full lips, and jagged brows, under which sat blazingly red eyes, her pupils elliptical and sideways. Her indigo gi was trimmed with braided gold and traditional Al Fhard patterns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari stepped forward, a puzzled frown on his face. “Hey, those techniques you were using… they looked familiar. Like a friend of mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a start, Xelha realized it was true—there was a familiar flow to the movements, like wind through the reeds….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” she replied, scrutinizing him, “Oh, yeah, the prince consort of Diadem. I’d almost forgotten my little brother used to rub shoulders with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you’re—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pilulu IV, head of the K.E.S.U. information division. Are you feeling up to a rescue mission?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“<span>Qek heyrl ku qobu hseks? Qek heyrl ku qobu newukuus? Zqoz qu ku sosul zqu Labasu Hqarl kok, as nohz, qak urluw gwezquw, hewwytzul ja puoreyka! New zqu hwasu en nwozwahalu oresu, zqak norku Hqarl keyrl lukuwbu qak nozu, jyz az kok qu kqe kyssesul zqu seskzuwk kqe sek tropyu zqak rosl! Pofu ytes qas, sa heyszwasus—zqak sakuwogru, zwuohquweyk hwek!”
</span></span></p><p>
  <span>The crowd was in uproar as the blindfold was torn from Kalas’ face. By the time his eyes had adjusted to the bright sun of the Nihal Desert, the commander from the Shrine of the Winds—Skeeve? He was pretty sure it was Skeeve—had moved on to his next victim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Auk, Kalas kok zqu lowh ospur kqe grezzul eyz zqu kys, jyz qu kok esra qorn en o toaw! Lyude, </span>
  <em>
    <span>newsuwra</span>
  </em>
  <span> en Qeyku Lyuvard, kok qak ohhestrahu as zquku luulk, kazq qoslk ok wul ok zqu greel qu kzeru nwes eyw nozquw!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude’s eyes were even redder than usual. His tears seemed to spark nothing more than further disdain from his brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kewkqattasp zquaw howsopu ak Rola Luozq, zku Wojal Jazhq en Azha! Kqu, zee, juzwoaul eyw prewaeyk ustawu, asnozyozul ok kqu ak kazq qu kazq kqes A os okqosul ze kqowu greel!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna’s blindfold was removed quickly enough that he got to watch her face shift from abject boredom to flat out contempt at whatever dumbassery Skeeve was spewing about her. Based on Lyude’s sour expression, it had been on a whole other level. He was really regretting his lack of studiousness when it came to Al Fhard; if they managed to survive, he’d do so having missed some Grade A teasing material.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Osl hestruzasp zqak askalaeyk vyowzuz ak zqu ‘ukzuusul’ Lehzew Larikush, zqu zuwwewakz kqe kzeru zqu zwyu Labasu Hqarl okoa nwes qak tuetru!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandpapa ignored Skeeve and the crowd in favor of scanning his surroundings for a familiar landmark. Though all Kalas could see was desert interspersed with generic boulders, it apparently wasn’t so for the native Al Zhani; the more he took in, the more relaxed he became.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe it was on account of their audience: an enormous gathering of Al Fhard and Al Zhani, none of whom seemed entirely at ease with the proceedings. There was a great deal of muttering between neighbors, a few of whom were consulting what appeared to be wanted posters. However, whatever doubts they had, no one seemed willing to do more than talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, if I’m going to die anyway, might as well mouth off a bit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare, boy,” snapped Papa without so much as looking his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, sheesh!” Kalas rolled his eyes spectacularly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the process, he caught a few latecomers sneaking into the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Got to be K.E.S.U. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A peek at the others showed no reaction from any of them; either they hadn’t noticed or they were better actors than he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guess it’ll be on me to run interference.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he wanted to test the cliché of gleaning an entire plan from a single meeting of the eyes, the last thing they needed was him leading Skeeve right to the rescue party. So instead he eyed the executioner, who was stomping into view with sword and axe in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loathe to risk another miraculous survival on Lyude’s part, his brother motioned sharply for him to be brought forward. He was made to kneel before a dais of pure white marble. The ghoulishly lovely executioner’s block was trimmed with burnished gold filigree, which parted from the stone only to form the least sturdy manacles Kalas had seen in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Showtime,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he yawned. Loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As expected, Skeeve gave his best glare, or so Kalas assumed—it was overshadowed, so to speak, by that of the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling his very most obnoxious smile, Kalas turned to Savyna—who, having been the victim of his scheming for the majority of their acquaintanceship, was the most likely to recognize that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>planned, purposeful</span>
  </em>
  <span> obnoxiousness—and said, “So, how long do these things usually take? I’m hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something like despair clouded her eyes. It was almost flattering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you say—cheeseburgers? Geldo’s complexion put me in the mood for something greasy,” he blithely pressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked narrowed eyes. “...Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, Kalas risked a peek at his audience; probably-K.E.S.U. continued to skulk, the crowd was confused, and Skeeve was offended. All in all, it was good work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he could do better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Hquuku suoz gwuol! Osl tahhruk</span>!” he exclaimed. While the Al Fhard word for ‘cheeseburger’ had been a top priority for him in his studies….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘<span>Hquukujywpuw’</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...it was far more entertaining to witness stone-cold Lady Death saying ‘cheeseburger’ with as much solemnity as she did anything else. As an added bonus, he saw the corner of her mouth twitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd was murmuring again, the only discernible word being, of course, ‘hquukujywpuw’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Face scrunching in annoyance, Skeeve snapped to the headsman, “Take sword against the halfbreed on your block—the other deserves not so much as the axe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The headsman, who must have understood Yevonese, grunted and readied the requested blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, shit, shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> New plan.</span>
  <em>
    <span> What would Melodia do in this situation?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Sa nozquw kes’z rahu zqak!</span>” Kalas shouted. It was the first thing he could think of, and so, now obligated to continue lest he lose their hard-won attention, he swallowed down his sour grapes and put on his cattiest attitude. “So unless you want </span>
  <em>
    <span>Commander Giacomo</span>
  </em>
  <span> breathing down your neck, I’d watch it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>En orr zku neer zkasbth—</span>” muttered Papa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A les’z thyddethu zku vessoslut karr ku beasasb yth… net vkuuthukytbutth?</span>” added Lyude. It was good timing on his part, for it called Skeeve’s attention just in time to miss a suspiciously Gibari-shaped figure pass through a gap in the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Nozquw karr ku beasasb</span>,” Kalas agreed, fairly certain he was making some kind of syntax error, if only due to Skeeve’s look of utter affront, “<span>Qu sohuk hquukujywpuw. Qu qok o hquukujywpuw lwukk.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mean ‘<span>otwes’?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word was unfamiliar. More to the point, Giacomo in a ‘cheeseburger dress’ was a funnier mental image. “Nah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Useypq!</span>” Fed up with the headsman’s bewildered hesitance, Skeeve drew his gun and trained it on his brother. “<span>Aey’wu tozquzah, Lyude—A hos’z juraubu esu ke pewsrukk—</span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kalas cut in, “You want to know why I made Lyude one of my guardians?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air stilled, tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Voice dipping to a more sinister register, he continued, “I wanted a fall man and I wanted to annoy Melodia. I figured I’d keep him in arm’s reach until one of my babysitters noticed something was off, then let him frame himself with how damn suspicious he acted. But you know why that didn’t happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do tell,” Skeeve said with feigned boredom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because between him and me, I didn’t stand a chance; at every turn, he was smarter and faster and better connected than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, and the entire group was caught up in a series of interlocking </span>
  <em>
    <span>I-know-you-know</span>
  </em>
  <span> conspiracies, to the point it grew too convoluted for him or Melodia to follow. But the officer didn’t need to know that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas smirked, his ire giving it a vicious edge. “They may not look it, but I only have the best of the best as my guardians. You wouldn’t have even made the cut, Skeeve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Skeeve?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> A os </span>
  <em>
    <span>Skeed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, <span>kes en Lyuvann, kes en Qeyku Lyuvard!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh yeah, it </span>
  </em>
  <span>was</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘Skeed’. Right. How could I forget Skeed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zqoz soppez ak kurr-sozhqul ze aey—suazquw lukuwbasp en zqu sosuk jukzekul</span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skeeve probably would have kept ranting, had there not been a swell of chronos-tinged mana to send him tumbling face-first into a sand dune.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Lyude be deserving better!” scolded Mizuti, whose appearance alone was enough to get the prisoners’ guard detail to back off, “And you’re not helping, Kalas!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling, Kalas helped Savyna undo Lyude’s bindings. “You’re right, Great Mizuti—my bad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas be forgiven,” they sniffed, turning their attention back to the Al Fhard, “Be these miscreants having the courage to face the Great Mizuti?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, they did. Once their backup emerged from the dunes, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti gave a wicked little laugh and sent them all flying with a single spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From there, it was chaos: civilians, well-accustomed to the myriad forms of domestic conflicts, melted from sight; imperials, left with only the charisma vacuum that was Skeeve to rally behind, fought back with little regard for cohesion or tactics; and rebels, whose strengths lay elsewhere than brute force, endeavored to use guerilla tactics despite a terrain disadvantageous to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Xelha. She shot out of the crowd, metal glinting in her outstretched hand. Not her wand, no—the Sword of the Heavens, living up to its name under the bright desert sun. Golden under that light, it matched the blaze of her sweat-drenched locks and blazing eyes. If someone in that moment had told him he was staring at a hero of myth, he’d have believed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Landing beside him, she stammered, “I—I meant to return it to you sooner… I just….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurred to him that this was their first conversation since he’d returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’d be your right to keep it,” he shrugged, accepting the hilt as they glided into place, his back to hers, “You know, after… everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We… held it together, last time.” The comment came softly, audible only because her head had tilted to speak directly at his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas fought back a shiver. “You don’t think you’re reading too much into it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never.” The word was absolute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As Her Majesty commands,” he laughed, sketching a playful bow, despite that she wouldn’t see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her shoulders tensed where they met the back of his spine. “You don’t have to—I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before anything else, I’m Xelha.” There was an uncomfortable half-truth hidden in the way the assertion wobbled past her lips. “I’m not above you—please don’t….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Above’ me?” He jabbed lightly backwards with an elbow. “You’re talking to living divinity here—I </span>
  <em>
    <span>outrank</span>
  </em>
  <span> you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?” she intoned, voice dipping into her lowest registers. Even three little words was too much for her, and out bubbled the giggles as soon as she was done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He joined in with some breathy snickers of his own. While Kalas was no role model, Xelha took it </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> too far in the other direction. Hearing her let loose was like removing a corset—the guilt that no amount of atonement could assuage unknit itself from his ribs—at least momentarily—in the wake of her levity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, kiddos, less flirting, more action!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Give me a break, Gibari</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Kalas groused, glaring at the dragoon’s shrinking feet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m trying really hard to be oblivious here!</span>
  </em>
  <span> But, to be (begrudgingly) fair to him, they hadn’t been doing much else to help with the battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should—” Xelha began.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>W̊̅͆̐̑̈́̅o͑ͨẽ̓-̅̃̽lͩa͐ͬͣͤ̂ͬd̂ͣͮ̆̔enͦ̍̓ͨ͋ ̀̐ͨChͤ̚i̒̀̑lͪ͌̾͆͛dͩ.ͯ̿̏̔.͌ͫͥ̆̐ͩ.͐̃.ͯͪͧͫ̆̓ͮ</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing she’d have sensed it as well, Kalas took sloppily to the air to witness the arrival of a third army: Fadroh’s forces, thousands strong. It was a short-lived flight, more of a boosted leap; he began losing altitude seconds after hitting his short zenith, lolling to the left as he focused all his efforts on continuing to beat that damned right wing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despair curdling his gut, Kalas glanced at the battle directly below. In the face of the battle to come, it barely qualified as a skirmish. A squabble between ants. Ants soon to be overrun by a molasses spill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his feet hit the metal stage again, Xelha had already alerted the others, who were trying in vain to redirect the fighting. Between the language barrier and the collective reputations of his guardians, their efforts were met with disbelief, disdain, and straight-up confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too many,” reported Kalas without prompting, “Even if everyone became all buddy-buddy right now, it’d just result in a lot of dead buddies. Sticking around won’t be good for our health.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The camaraderie of barely a minute ago was broken. Xelha snapped, “We can’t just abandon them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s not what I meant!</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted to say. But that wasn’t entirely true, so instead he mumbled, “So what if we do stay? We’re pretty much it for people qualified to stand up to Malpercio.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be risky to remain here. Retreat is a valid strategy,” Savyna agreed. But she seemed dissatisfied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she was unhappy with Kalas’ suggestion, Lyude was livid in that understated way of his. “If we focus our efforts on Fadroh, it should command enough of our people’s attention to their common enemy for them to retreat as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, now. There’s brave and then there’s just plain reckless.” Gibari rested his weight against his spear, frowning. “What we need is someone for them to rally behind. Someone who both sides will respect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kalas had feared he would, Gibari directed the last part at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, don’t go dragging me into this!” he replied, unintentionally yelling. Making a conscious effort to lower his volume, he continued, “Or did you forget I’m the top of the international shitlist? Nobody’s going to want to listen to the White-Winged Darkness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again in that quiet tone, Xelha interjected, “That’s not who you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might as well be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was surprised at how bitter he felt. It was a statement of pure fact, as impersonal as it could get. So why then was he so eager for someone to refute him? Why was he so disappointed when they just returned to the debate without acknowledging what he’d said? And why did he feel so angry at being ignored, when it was all he deserved?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boohoo, Kalas, you were proven right—you can throw a pity party when Fadroh’s stupid face is missing a few teeth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As if summoned by the mere thought of him, Fadroh strolled casually through the thick of the melee. Every combatant who locked eyes on him terminated whatever action they were in the midst of, whether it be struggling against a chokehold or a killstrike, and backed away, the reaction rippling out from the epicenter that was the once-favored general.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful what you wish for,” Kalas muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he, along with the others, bristled as Fadroh joined them on the stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than address the small crowd of foes to his right, Fadroh lifted his arms to those frozen in his presence and boomed, “<span>Sa heyszwasus! Zqu orsapqza Malpercio qok kuus naz ze pwosz aey o jees: zqeypq sosa en aey qobu luhwaul Qas as aeyw apsewoshu, Qu karr kurhesu ok has orr kqe wutusz—</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Le sez ju luhuabul ja zqu twesakuk en o heyszuwnuaz pel</span>!” Lyude cried, planting himself directly next to Fadroh, “<span>Ubus sek, zqu hwuozywu kuowasp zqu pusuwor’k nohu qok qak owsa teakul new kroypqzuw!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imperials and rebels alike were moths wavering between two flames: comforting copper and vivacious vermilion. As Kalas himself well knew, Lyude’s tattered reputation was irrelevant when his passion swelled more than his even-tempered demeanor could contain; it was harder </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get sucked into his idealism. On the other hand, which was the safer gamble: the decorated thoroughbred or the traitorous darkhorse? If he were Fadroh, he’d’ve long since spun his involvement as a way of getting Alfard under Malpercio’s protection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Far from losing his cool, Fadroh actually seemed pleased at having competition. Smirking, he purred, “<span>As zqak sos’k kewlk, Malpercio quowk zqu kaww en zqu hessesk</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pronouncement was met with immediate uproar from the people below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Alfard osl orr quw hqarlwus owu yskewzqa en zqu sosu en ‘Gwuzqwus’</span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waiting army poured down the dunes from all directions, descending upon the terrified humans. The very small number of imperials with heartwings took to the skies, though almost all lacked the necessary stamina to flee. The rest plummeted to their doom, or else were hunted by the fiends possessing of their own means of flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fee couldn’t fly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fee couldn’t get away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas…? Why is it so dark…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas returned to himself with hands wrapped in the general’s lapels, screaming directly into his face, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fadroh!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although he’d emerged from the shroud of memory, it was almost preferable to the wildfire running through his every vein.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Kalas,” that bastard said, as if noticing his presence for the first time, “Your wing is uglier than I remembered. Won’t you let His Holiness fix you again? We’ve so missed our beloved brother.” Fadroh ran his fingers through Kalas’ hair until he could cup his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas let go and pushed him away. He took a few steps back himself for good measure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Fadroh stalked forward, continuing, “Fear not Lady Melodia’s reaction—she was put out at first by your recent decisions, of course, but is eager to bury the hatchet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere along the way, Kalas had gotten turned around, which he learned when he tripped over that horrendous, impractical, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> headsman’s block.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fadroh’s eyes lit up—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—and then disappeared from sight, as Papa had tackled him to the ground and was punching his face over and over and over and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—over the chaos, Lyude was shouting at his countrymen, voice strained to cracking over the strain—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—Fadroh let Malpercio’s power corrupt him fully, transforming him into a towering, vaguely humanoid fiend. Papa released him in a hurry—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—red red red red red—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, no, no, not now! I don’t have time for this!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas bit down hard on the meat of his thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Focus on one sensation, just as he was taught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He hadn’t been taught to use pain.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It had come the easiest to him was all.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna was speaking to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t hear her words through the bell choir that had taken up residence in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he was staring at Giacomo. Who put his hands over Kalas’ ears. Closed his eyes. Breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas hated that Giacomo’s guidance was more effective than Papa’s had ever been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scowling his gratitude, he wriggled out of the unwanted comfort. Examined his surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo had brought soldiers and a ship, the former holding off the horde and carting their surviving countrymen onto the latter. His friends seemed to have called a truce in the name of preventing a total massacre. And Lyude, bless his idiot heart, was still trying (and largely failing) to rally those still in fighting condition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Lyude’s voice grew ever more pleading, so too did whatever physical strain he was under come to a head. Breaking off into a coughing fit, he overbalanced and fell to his knees, hacking up bloody phlegm. On his back, his stunted wings shook with the force of his sickness, and a single glossy pane flaked off.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 19/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 7/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. In Which Calamity Overrules Just Desserts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was strange to see Ayme—sadistic, vengeful Ayme—not only helmetless, but clutching Lyude’s hand with tears in her eyes. Folon was on the stool next to hers, leaning over the sickbed. For his part, Lyude would be still for some time, then, when one had gotten used to it, shriek and contort. In those moments, Ayme’s grip would tighten and Folon would murmur in Al Zhani.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve heard about ‘opposites attracting’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Kalas noted, slamming his gaze back down to <span>his primer</span> before he could get caught, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but this is a whole other level.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the only one of Xelha’s guardians currently in the sickbay. Ostensibly it was due to a shift structure, so that Lyude would always have someone alert on his vigil, but Kalas wouldn’t be surprised if no one relieved him. Unlike the others, it wasn’t like he had anything else better to do. He wasn’t a doctor, he didn’t know where to find heartenbrace—he wouldn’t even be good as a strategist, unless they needed a plan for how best to betray one’s friends for power!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides which, Gibari was already an hour late.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Regardless</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Giacomo said as he passed off the empty kettle to an attendant, “The hordes spilling out from Cor Hydrae have blockaded the Empire as no army ever could before—the praetor will have to make do with what medicine his motherland can provide.” Eyes of the same supernatural hue as the Malpercio-ensnared slid to Larikush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor breathed deeply of his cup’s steam before replying. “Observation does not make me an expert. Especially,” he stressed, frowning at the notes he’d laid out upon the table, “when it is so limited in duration, patients, knowledgeable parties….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From what Xelha could see, the journal pages devoted to Heartwaste Fever were both few in number and full of speculation. Duke Calbren’s doctors had earned their renown as ‘experts’ by trying everything until they found something that worked. As a result, he had a great deal of information on how to ease symptoms in the late stages of the disease’s progression and very little on combating the source. Mizuti had tried to fill in a few blanks, but, as pathology hadn’t been of a particular interest of theirs, they could only offer hearsay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If only machina were more common outside the empire,” she sighed, “I’m sure Barnette could arrange something if only she knew….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo raised a brow. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> a strange one, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took her a moment to remember that, as a Yevonite, she was expected to loathe machina as the ‘source’ of Sin. She glanced helplessly at the others, unsure of how to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I seem to recall Her Grace saying something similarly strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She strained the past year for instances of the two speaking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There was the time in Rodolfo’s manor… and in Miran airspace….</span>
  </em>
  <span> But try as she might, she had no recollection of anything that had been said. That is, apart from her ruse at being an Earth Child, which still made her squirm in embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A fairytale queen...,” he mused, a Kalas-like gleam to his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...The Lava Caves!</span>
  </em>
  <span> So much had happened in so short a time that it was easy to forget his presence there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha acknowledged his deduction with a deep nod, then pressed, “You said earlier that you were spying on the world leaders in Komo Mai—if the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> was able to make it through the blockade once, then surely it could do it again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were interrupted by the return of the attendant with a new batch of tea. When he was slaked of it, Giacomo answered, “A feat we’ll not soon repeat, unless the Kuuwukk stayed where we deposited her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A… seeress guided you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, looking oddly proud of one whom, less than a day ago, had been his enemy. “Yes, that’s right. It was she who orchestrated our arrival at the execution.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we’ll find her at our destination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pride gave way to utter delight. “Quick on the uptake, I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was when he sent a smug glance at his stepfather—Kalas’ grandfather—that she connected the dots. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I really that obvious?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Between herself and Kalas, it was her affection that was more likely to be noticed… though perhaps that was because for so long it had been one-sided. Her pining had led her to, temporarily at least, defy fate in the most bombastic manner available to her. His, however….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas, as she was beginning to suspect, loved at an arm’s length, as if fearing reprimand. He would probably squash his feelings soon—she could see his recognition of them in every glance sent her way, but he knew as well as she that to love a summoner was folly. To love an Ice Queen? That was its own genre of poetry.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Sorry I’m late, kiddo,” Gibari grunted, squeezing through the tight door frame with a stack of sheets and towels. They were accepted by Folon, who gave a grateful nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Kalas was hesitating on the threshold, Gibari had Lyude in his arms, uncaring of the contagion, while the other two efficiently shucked the soiled bedding onto the floor and replaced it. Ayme’s eyes, full of condemnation, met his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The narrow catwalks of the battleship </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> weren’t much better. Giacomo’s crew bustled every which way, staring and muttering and skirting from the path of their fallen ‘savior’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slipped into the airbay, found a grouping of barrels near the back, and dozed fitfully until a heavy weight landed at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CLANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas blinked, then muttered a half-hearted apology to Giacomo as he tucked away the dagger he’d instinctively drawn on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo seemed remarkably unfazed by the forearm’s length of wickedly curved steel set to plunge into his eye socket. Then again, he’d been just as quick to the draw, having caught Kalas’ blade on one of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The doctor won’t be pleased if he finds out you’ve been skipping meals,” he said without preamble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The threat was enough for Kalas to eat the sandwich he’d been brought without complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite the charade you put on—worthy of an opera, even.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t been hungry to begin with. The addition of the food turning to chalk in his mouth was less than helpful. “What about you? It’s not like you rescued us out of the goodness of your heart—what’s your angle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always so suspicious,” Giacomo laughed softly. His tone went bitter. “I suppose I’ve only myself to blame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think?” he scoffed back. He made to abandon the remaining sandwich half, but a warning eyebrow waggle had him return to the laborious consumption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you meet with the Emperor?” The question was spoken neutrally, unnaturally so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Starting at the crust in his hands, he rolled his eyes to meet Giacomo’s head-on, cocking his head for maximum effect. “Like the others didn’t spill the deets as soon as they didn’t have to worry about Fadroh’s goon squad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, they did provide the tactical reasoning behind it,” Giacomo confirmed, looking away briefly in recollection, “But that still leaves your motivation a mystery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now who’s paranoid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t take the bait. “Lady Xelha was rather insistent on your selflessness in that regard… but I find that hard to believe.” A smirk. “Ah, the dangers of young love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Kalas’ turn to be baited, with a buffet of options to nibble on. Answer the original question? Get defensive about Xelha? Tellingly avoid either? He was almost offended that Giacomo thought he had his number, especially after his acknowledgment of how Kalas had fooled him as much as anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pretended to think it over. “Huh, you make a good point there.” He shot his nastiest grin. “So, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> my motive then?—you being the expert and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo, as faithful as a fir, was wrankled in spite of himself. But, in what had to be a masochistic effort of self-restraint, he stayed the course he’d laid. “That’s how you want to play it, hmm, boy? Well, no need to rush, I suppose; we’ll have plenty of opportunities to finish this conversation of ours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re about to land,” Kalas guessed, rising and dusting the crumbs off his hands.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The Dark Service Headquarters, as Savyna helpfully identified it, was exactly as run-down as one would expect of the barracks of a long-defunct secret police. As if all the moisture of Alfard had been relocated to the cave it was sequestered in, every wall oozed tepid water from its volcanic pores, which puddled in the areas that retained their flooring. The place was rank with mold and strange gases, either which would have given him a headache all on their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently dissatisfied with making every breath an exercise in misery, the only light available was the persistent flickering of sparkshrooms. Which, naturally, added patches of ozone to the already delightful olfactory bouquet. The headache was rapidly becoming a migraine. His only comfort was that Giacomo was equally repulsed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After about ten aimless minutes in head-pounding, sinus-numbing hell, they rounded a corner to see a faint, warm light creeping across the walls. As they neared its source, the walls seemed to dry under its grooming fingers, which leapt from ridge to pockmark with the liveliness of a guitarist. There seemed some sort of irrepressible spirit to the ochre glow, giddy, welcoming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Torchlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas found his second wind and, with it, Giacomo’s contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Seeress was an Al Zhani—or so, at least, he initially assumed, based on her skin tone and the red mark upon her brow. Its shape reminded him of the Earth Sphere’s jewel, save that it was mirrored horizontally. But then he recalled that Al Zhani women wore their marks between the lower lip and chin, and so he shifted his attention to the one feature that would indicate with surety her heritage: the pupils.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again he was stumped, for, rather than the classic spiral, they were the horizontal slits of a caplin, set bold against a backdrop of soft gray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glamyss!” cried Xelha, darting past him to throw her arms around the woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you well, Your Majesty,” she replied, briefly embracing back, “Now, time is of the essence.” She turned her disconcerting gaze on Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, uh, Glamyss,” he said awkwardly, performing the Eye of the Whale to give himself something to do, “My name is Kalas… I’m one of Xelha’s guardians.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, Xelha looked surprised at his pronouncement. Then she ducked her head and blushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated when she did that. He hated the knowing looks the others made. He hated most of all that he could see his own decision reflected in her sad eyes: she had no plans to pursue some kind of resolution to their dance. No, there was no question of how either of them felt—he wasn’t that kind of stupid, thank you very much—any more than there was of his worthiness of her affections.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Kalas,” Glamyss nodded back, respectfully enough yet undeniably wary. To Giacomo she said, “How many lost?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not nearly so many as you foresaw,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas tried to imagine the magnitude of deaths the Seeress had predicted that would qualify the earlier bloodbath as ‘not nearly so many’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you…,” Xelha started, brow furrowing, “Without the Celestriad….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever she was talking about, Glamyss seemed to understand, for she answered, “When I Saw the return of Your Majesty, it came alongside a vision of devastation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sis spent seven days and seven nights viewing as many potential futures as she could!” chirped a new arrival, flouncing in from a side room. Glamyss’ sister wore a remarkably detailed birdsuit, one seemingly inspired by a pigeon. She, too, had the strange pupils and forehead mark, though hers was an electric blue and mostly hidden behind neat bangs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catranne!” Xelha greeted, giving her a hug as well, “Are Kodelle and Barnette here too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “Mh-mh. ‘Nettie is setting up things on her end and ‘Delle is off meeting with those K.E.S.U. people. We’ve got some aces up our sleeves though!” Indeed, up her own was a magnus containing an herb of some kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between Xelha’s gasp and Mizuti’s whoop of joy, he had a good idea of what it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had less of an idea of why it was being given to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Lord Kalas,” said Glamyss, gliding over with a mug of boiling water, into which she guided him to drop the heartenbrace, “The praetor’s ailment will be addressed. But where Heartwaste Fever is a patient killer, Heartwing Shock Syndrome is not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, Xelha and Papa were in agreement. As he grimaced his way through the tea, which tasted the way a startled ladybug smelled, they explained that it was common for injuries to one’s wings to result in a rapid decline in energy, mood, and functionality. In cases of total dismemberment, the victim often slipped into a comatose state, if they didn’t die outright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I imagine it was the wing’s alien properties, as well as your willingness to remove it, Kalas, that shielded you from the majority of consequences,” Larikush mused, stroking his beard, “Wingcleaving has been an element of many Al Fhard subcultures over the course of our history. And, when it became the norm during Emperor Baelheit’s brief reign, few, even among immigrants, experienced such hardship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I do feel a little better… I think</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If nothing else, he felt less empty than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha looked puzzled. “‘Emperor Baelheit’? I feel like I’ve heard that name before….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milliarde’s father,” Savyna reminded her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right.” However, some of the uncertainty lingered in her brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t blame her—though it was common knowledge, he felt like he was forgetting something. But, time being in short supply, he shrugged it off. He could figure it out later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Glamyss,” said Gibari, when no one else took the lead, “with all those futures you checked out, you’ve got to have some sort of idea for what our next move should be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She inclined her head at an angle. “I came to the same conclusion as all of you have: cut off from outside support, Alfard must unite or be annihilated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how?” he shot back. Promptly apologetic for his misaimed frustration, he continued, “Geldoblame, K.E.S.U, the folks who showed up to the execution—we couldn’t get through to any of them! Even with an army bearing down on them, they were still more focused on infighting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I even pulled the ‘Labasu Hqarl’ card,” Kalas chimed in, “Giacomo got their attention, but not enough to do much of anything with….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The commander, who had moved to lean against the wall, crossed his arms and frowned. “Our situation has grown too dire for the populace to respond to illustrious figures as it once did. Power is no longer a matter of </span>
  <em>
    <span>epithet</span>
  </em>
  <span> but of </span>
  <em>
    <span>claim</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Claim</span>
  </em>
  <span> which is held by a man who had been ludicrously far down in the imperial line of succession.” Papa followed his lead and found a chair to slump into as he chewed his pipe. Peering over the bowl at a hopeful audience, he added, “And no, we can’t use that against him. All but three of those before him were killed in highly scrutinized acts of domestic terrorism. Lord Sagi himself identified the culprit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas rummaged for context in his begrudgingly acquired database of imperial history. “Oh yeah, the elections twenty years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For those not in the know, Gibari clarified, “Aside from the bombings, Emperor Olgan was assassinated, Baelheit fell with Tarazed, and what’s-his-name got hit with some kind of foul play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quaestor Verus,” was Savyna’s subdued contribution.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She knows something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Kalas immediately suspected, watching from the corner of his eye, </span>
  <em>
    <span>She was the assassin… wait, no, she’d’ve been too young.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Regardless, her reaction gave him somewhere to start, if and when the little history lesson proved relevant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glamyss met all their objections with a steady gaze. Closing her eyes, she dropped her melodramatic reveal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Olgan’s heir lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas pretended to join in the hubbub that followed, keeping an eye on Savyna. An indecipherable tangle of emotions crossed her face. Or, rather, took it over, as it seemed this was the one tell she couldn’t instantly subdue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things just got more complicated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The tricky part will be getting her to admit it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He scanned her body language, first covertly, then without care, as she was too caught up in her own head to notice. Sloppy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I had to guess, Verus was responsible for the hit on her dad and she went into hiding… nah, someone would’ve mentioned by now if there was a presumed-dead Al Fhard princess. She was already a secret.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Somehow, the realization of their common ground hit him harder than the fact he’d befriended his old tormentor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aloud, he exclaimed, “Whoa, whoa, let’s take it easy, guys.” Giving Glamyss a Look, he asked, “You happen to See what Olgan Jr. looks like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Predictably, she had not. “The child’s form was overtaken by the shade of their lost sire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Bummer.” He glanced at Xelha, expecting to eat an earful of disapproval. Instead, though her nostrils were flared, she had a look of contemplation about her. One he couldn’t recall her ever wearing before, yet somehow seemed familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a moment to hit him that it was the same look he saw in the mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uneasy, he threw on a fake grin before anyone else could notice his pause. “Well, it’s not like talking about it is going clue us in if no one knows anything. Why don’t we take a breather to help Lyude, get some grub…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the scrounging for preferred rations that followed, he stayed just long enough to disguise his ulterior motives, then slipped out of the room. Before taking the final step, he met Xelha’s gaze and projected as much ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>just trust me</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ as he could into that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face relaxed. Giving the barest of nods, she turned her back to him and began catching up with her subjects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without meaning to, he let slip a smile of genuine happiness.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Tracking Savyna through the barracks proved easier than Kalas anticipated; whether due to carelessness or the desire to be found, little signs of activity abounded. Gouges in fungi, scuffing on rocks, muddy footprints on the odd patches of tile—it wasn’t long before he found his way to the saddest bed he’d ever seen, upon which perched his quarry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t so distracted that his approach went unnoticed. After a stretch of scrutiny, she stated, “You noticed.” A waver wormed through her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the kind of thing I notice.” Crossing the admittedly spacious double, he sat on the second bed. “So. ‘Empress Savyna’. A little heavy on the sibilance, but it’s got a ring to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips pursed. Relaxed. Rinsed. Repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, she glared at the wall and whispered, “Sagi, Milliarde, and Guillo killed my father. I watched him die.” Before he could think of a response, she continued, “I didn’t understand then what kind of person he was. He was my father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” was all he could manage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To which she snorted and responded dryly, “Platitudes don’t suit you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh. Got me there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna gestured around her. “I came here to train to take my vengeance. But this place was compromised, and my father’s killers saved my life. In this very room. It gave me a lot to think about… too much. It was easier to lose myself in my training.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Know the feeling,” he murmured, tangling his fingers in ray-moo fur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why I decided to forgive you; if you didn’t, I’d have taken you out at the first opportunity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t much to say to that, so he took it upon himself to address the oliphant in the room. “You’re the only one we’ve got who can challenge Geldoblame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right.” Though she agreed, the way the sheet twisted cruelly in her grasp very much did not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, too, was familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this what Xelha meant back then…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...It’s like fate’s playing a bad trick on us,” sighed Kalas, leaning back on his hands to watch water drip from the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Plink, plink, plink, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it went. Absurdly loud for such tiny things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Fate’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured flippantly. “No matter what we think we’re doing with our lives, here we are: the Divine Child and an imperial princess.” He breathed out aggressively. “I never wanted any of this! But it’s my ‘duty’ and I’m going to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Savyna rose. Shoes clacking against the damp stone floor, she bridged the gap to sit beside him, watching the droplets throw themselves against the floor. One after another, they were dashed, their pieces slithering into whatever space they could find in the porous surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You believe in fate,” she said, otherwise still.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas…? Why is it so dark…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I don’t want to,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Plink!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t,” she said simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas’ unimpressed side-eye was parried, a steadily climbing eyebrow the riposte.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right, I’ll get on that.” Once his eyes had been adequately rolled, however, he gave it a little more thought. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, toothy and feral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing that fired him up quite like chucking wrenches into someone else’s schemes.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kalas continued smirking throughout the charged silence. He was tempted to whip out his camera, that their stupefied faces live on in infamy, but contented himself with committing it to memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude’s was the best, of course. Long past turning, the gears in his head were flying every which way as he struggled to maintain his decorum. The result was equal parts dismayed fluffpup and pupil who thought the exam was </span>
  <em>
    <span>next</span>
  </em>
  <span> week. A close second was Giacomo, who looked like he’d just found a maggot in his soup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other end of the spectrum was the gaudy trio of Folon, Ayme, and Mizuti, who seemed precisely as excited for it as Kalas. Folon in particular had a shit-eating grin that was putting enormous strain on his lip piercing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh—I—What?” babbled Lyude. He chugged down the remainder of his heartenbrace, as if believing Kalas’ new plan to be a fever dream. On the last gulp, he began choking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti pounded his back as they cheered, “You’ve outdone yourself, Kalas! It only be natural that the Great Lyude be the next emperor!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I—Savyna!” stuttered ‘the Great Lyude’, appealing to the amused princess at Kalas’ side, “Surely you—I mean, I beg your pardon, but it’s hardly appropriate—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Folon cut in, “<span>Ok, bafu az o tuthz, koku—o dtasvuthth net o so-as-rok veyrl vesu as kosla!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Bythz zkasv en orr zku beelauth thku ekuth yth net kkoz thku lal ze Azha</span>,” Ayme added. She called over to Kalas, “Nice work, dumb-ox!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ‘dumbass’,” he replied, kinship swelling at their matching grins of spite, “<span>Ranuzasu en juasb lahh qol ze hesu as qosla thesu teasz, auoq</span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared back in what appeared to be awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “<span>Ok, razzru Kalas nasorra kaz zku keevth osl kath Al Fhard ath oth kol oth ufut~!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not awe then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Juzzuw zkos aeyw Yevonuthu!</span>” he groused back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his shock, it was Xelha who responded with, “<span>Az tuorra aths’z.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ganging up on me, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d be more than happy to help you study.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just want an excuse to give me a lecture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you put it like that, you make it sound like I need one~”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You might not need one, but I’ll have a few more lined up for you if that’s how you want to play, Miss Kaffaljidhma</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was what he wanted to say, but then he noticed that they had both unknowingly leaned in, a hair too close for friendly banter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, combined with their audience, stirred him to casually shift his weight away and address Lyude instead. “If anything, you’re the one she should be nagging—I wouldn’t want to be Savyna’s ward either, but it’s not like it’s the same as adoption.” He took a moment to pretend-shudder at the image of living in her crowded hut in Holoholo. “No obligation to a dinner invite for Lo-Cid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a minute!” the quirky Anuenuan called from the side room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your time, Lo—” Kalas paused. Sent a judgmental eyeroll in Savyna’s direction. “I get she’s got you wrapped around her finger, but hanging on to a recording of her voice—” He took stock of her open mouth—the closest she ever came to being slackjawed. “No. No way. Lolo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tip of an orange crest poked through the doorway. Despite that barest view, it was easy to fill in the rest of the image: Lolo, torn between her work and her garrulousness, balancing on one foot in the space between her drafting table and sweet, sweet gossip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heya, ‘Lassie!” The voice was unmistakable. “Just need to put a few finishing touches on your commish!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My… ‘commish’?” He glanced at Savyna for a translation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Commission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes at the likeliest culprit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Far from being cowed, Glamyss merely replied, “There would hardly be a point in restoring only half of your heartwings, no?” A faint, mysterious smile grazed her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only… half?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart raced.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s… no way….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A series of clanks and clangs spilled in from the side door. <span>A primer</span> came spinning out in a flood of gears and wood chips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aaaaaand... done! Come on, George!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Young lady, what will it take for you to learn my name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That voice had raised him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That voice had </span>
  <em>
    <span>birthed</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That voice had been with him since before he even began to gestate in the Heartflask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Gramps…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t just the voice he knew; the stuttering way the chair scraped back, the soft footsteps, the scent of pipeweed and machina oil—all of it signalled the approach of the man who raised him and Fee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only one close to him who didn’t already know that he had betrayed humanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Run.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Run.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand on his back. Increasing in pressure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have faith,” whispered Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, the hand wasn’t pressing back on him—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the one stepping backwards. Taking advantage of his paralyzed mind, his body had already begun what he did best: retreat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he was to take the easy way out, the window was rapidly closing. Each step was louder than the last. Each second brought Georg closer to his failure of a grandson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another hand clapped onto his opposite shoulder. “Dwell in the present.” It was Giacomo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Papa was already at the threshold to greet his errant husband. However, as he moved to embrace him, he paused and drew back, looking at whatever Gramps was holding in his arms. “Oh, Georg, you’ve outdone yourself. Mythril alloy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, 87.2331%—the rest is adamantite,” Gramps said, as if name-dropping two of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>strongest and rarest metals known to man</span>
  </em>
  <span> was roughly the same cause for excitement as a change in weather, “We were able to circumvent the usual weight restrictions with Dr. Lolo’s designs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo, who had at some point snuck around her newfound engineering buddy that she might fling herself at her ‘honey-hubby’, perked up at her name. In an instant she was at Kalas’ side, dragging him forward whilst babbling, “It’s all thanks to Glammy, really; if she hadn’t gotten her hands on those fellbranches—ha! the whole project</span>
  <em>
    <span> would’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> gone up in smoke!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere behind him, he could hear Gibari cracking up at the double pun that, knowing Lolo, was probably unintentional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gramps had an alarming gleam in his eye. “The magic imbued in even the Celestial Tree’s detritus is something else! Stronger than most metals, and able to bond with them…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh, well, this is, like, the third time I’ve worked with it like this?” she giggled, heedless of how Kalas froze when he laid eyes on his new winglet, “Yeah, the first was that time I fixed Sagi’s ship, and then the odd jobs fixing Milly’s prosthetics—oops, uh, hehe, that was supposed to be a secret….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general shape was more-or-less the same as his old winglet, which was to say it echoed the basic form of his natural wing. A ridged belt with which to latch it in place on the shoulder. The main body, which, in its tear-shaped compact form, would cover most of his back, were it to be centered. Once Georg activated it for his inspection, it retained the tri-segmented arrangement of pinions, as well as the skeletal structure at its core.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was where the similarities ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where the old unfurled with a heavy snap and lock of the metal composing the pinion bases, the new slid apart with a barely audible whirring of gears. Similar in design to her infamous waterwheel, the gears and basic skeleton were fashioned from the aforementioned fellbranches—lightning and shadow imbued respectively, if the faint sparking and haze were any indication. As a result of the material origin, both were much darker in color than what he was used to. In fact, there was a glossy quality to the finish that gave them the same iridescence as his feathers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps the greatest change was the lack of energy constructs. Gramps had been forced to rely upon their temperamental nature for joint interfacing and the pinion blades in order to balance out the weight of the carbon steel, as well as to stabilize flight. Without his ability to communicate with machines, Kalas was sure they would have shorted out far more often than the handful of occasions in his early years. Between their fickleness, rigidity, and the difficulty inherent in coding them, the energy constructs had been just barely able to scrape by as a net positive for the design.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, however, the interfacing was wooden. And as for the pinions, they had been forged of the mythril-adamantite alloy. The transition from folded to spread had been made much smoother by the inclusion of gears, and there appeared to be joints in the major segments and pinion bases. The smaller pinions were retractable, whereas the rest folded to fit snugly with the rest of the winglet. The inclusion of the adamantite gave a green tinge to the otherwise gleaming silver of the mythril. With the dark wood reflecting onto the surrounding metal, it gave the illusion of a feathered texture, as well as a similar effect as the gloss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo leaned over, still jabbering about the specs, and ‘booped’ the main gear, sound effect and all. Just as silkily as the winglet had opened, it was tucked tightly together once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—failsafe, you know, in case ‘Lassie gets knocked upside the head; you don’t want to be lugging him around with an extra body’s-length of metal flopping every which way—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gramps handed it over wordlessly, though his watery eyes were more eloquent than his tongue would have been. Kalas bypassed the gift entirely to embrace his grandfather, who hooked the winglet into place as he reciprocated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I didn’t guide you better, my boy,” he murmured as he stroked Kalas’ hair. Then, pulling back, he gave an affectionate grin and ordered, “No dawdling now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time for the calibration test</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Far from his first experience with troubleshooting winglets, Kalas hopped atop a squat table and obediently modelled his full wingspan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly, he was faced with his silhouette on the opposite wall. Perhaps because it was connected to its host, what had been an ambience of lightning and shadow was now an eruption of electricity as the prosthetic reacted to his heart’s command. Even viewing it as far from its source as possible, the light was almost too much to bear; the eyes’ sole reprieve was to be found in the dark angel at the center of the crackling maelstrom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that brief span of time—less than a passing moment, barely so much as a second—Kalas </span>
  <em>
    <span>understood</span>
  </em>
  <span> his place in the patchwork posse Xelha had assembled. But understanding hemorrhaged with the decline of the storm. In the end, the second passed, the thunderhead grew docile, and what lingered of the shadow of enlightenment was blinked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But though his retinas returned to equilibrium, Kalas remained struck with a sensation not unlike vertigo. Artificial as its birth had been, it had been no less of a storm for it; in fact, it had been as if the majesty of a sky, shredded by opaline fractals, was condensed into the length of a single strike. He was breathless. Breathless in the face of nature’s incomparable grandeur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That he himself was the source of that grandeur was discomfiting to an equal degree as his involvement in creating their current predicament.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he grit his teeth, took some deep breaths, and projected his voice over the bustle of the two engineers below him. “Back on topic… Lyude, this plan only works if you’re onboard with it. I know it’s asking a lot, but….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude closed his eyes, subtle tension disrupting the otherwise peaceful image. “...It’s been two—no, three now—years since I opposed Operation Sweep. Even had my siblings been inclined to recognize me as their own, I revoked my name as a son of House Lyuvard. I… would not even begin to know how to describe how difficult it is, to embrace my father’s legacy once more….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping to his side, Ayme crooked his face towards her with a curled finger under his chin. “<span>Kua, an aey les’z kosz ze le zkath, A kes’z ruz osaesu netvu aey</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A veyrl sez deththakra ku the thurnathk</span>!” he said, his typical righteous zeal strangled into a volume fit for conversation, “<span>Az’th bythz… A bythz….”</span></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo’s raspy voice cut over whatever indignant reply Folon had opened his mouth to spew. “‘<span>Les’z kakq ze ju as hesnrahz kazq aeyw greel’? Sez os yshesses kuszasusz.” His eyes flicked to Kalas, darting away when he realized he’d been caught.</span>
</span></p><p>
  <span>Head lowered ‘til all that was visible was his hair, Lyude replied mournfully, “<span>Vesnravz koth kuus eyt vus ufut thasvu A askutazul zku novu osl sosu en zku neyslut… A, zku kothzotl thes, kesetul okefu zku ztyu kuat…</span>.” His shoulders tensed from the efforts of his clasped hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, kid,” Gibari interjected, once again before Folon could speak, “I’m not going to pretend like I know everything that’s going on, but don’t you think you’re overcomplicating this? I’ve been there with the touch-and-go family stuff—hell, after my pa died in service, ‘Kahn kicked me out of Elnath for the better part of twenty years!—but in the end, it’s never just one or the other; Pa was a pain in my rear </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was a senior knight </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> a superstitious old fishmonger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone is like that,” agreed Xelha, her focused gaze capturing Lyude’s when he dared to peek up, “I’m Xelha, but I can’t say that I’m her before I’m the Ice Queen—we’re one and the same, and each influences the choices of the other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be great, yes, this be true,” they chirped, “but the Great Mizuti also be worried about a little tiff they be having before meeting the Great Lyude. Mother and Father did not believe when the Great Mizuti be telling them about the ancient wizards’ visions! They thought the Great Mizuti be the Mad Mizuti! But loved they still be~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo opened her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve talked plenty already!” Folon snapped, accent significantly improved from the last time Kalas heard him speak Yevonese. Not wasting his chance to get a word in edgewise, he sidled closer to Lyude until he was all but draped across him. “How do you like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He shoved a piece of scrap paper under the other’s nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long moment wherein Lyude said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna pushed past those crowded around him and peered at the page. Then, with a face and tone that belied the joke it was plausible she was attempting, she stated, “As long as you’re in my House, no ward of mine will wear </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>to usurp the throne.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that, it seemed, was that.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Xelha was accustomed to Lyude being smartly dressed. She was not, however, accustomed to that entailing slicked-back hair. Nor could she recall ever having seen him with the forehead marking typical of an Al Zhani man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was Larikush, combing a sweetly pungent pomade through his red hair. As he worked, the logic behind the change became clear: with his bangs out of the way, his strong jaw and angular features gave Lyude a much colder, shrewder impression. It was helped along by the frown of a man who very much did not want the position into which he was being instated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His military jacket had been replaced by a straight-bottomed, double breasted waistcoat with notch lapels, which were characterized by an oversized collar. The five pairs of obsidian buttons gleamed with inlaid gold against a narrow panel of cream in the otherwise black waistcoat. The gold continued throughout the piece’s trimming, including the slanted pockets on either side of the buttons, from which issued red cloth squares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The degree of gold present, though far outstripping what other islands generally found tasteful, was still significantly less than one would expect of an imperial candidate. It had been used solely to accent his otherwise quite practical attire. The tassles and hem of his red epaulettes, the clasps of his red suspenders, the trimming of his tailcoat-style cape, the cufflinks on his gloves and shirt, the inner sections of his pleated breeches, and the laces of his knee-high boots made up the entirety of his supply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boots, like the waistcoat, cape, and wrist-length gloves, were black. In another rare instance of form over function, they had a two-inch wedge heel. They were stunning against the scarlet breeches above. A matching tie and white blouse rounded out the design.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if the garb clashed with the humble man Xelha knew him to be, it was leagues better than the designs proposed by his lovers. Between Folon’s insistence on a severely plunging neckline and Ayme arguing for a croptop paired with low-riding harem pants, the flashy parade uniform was easily the most conservative of the three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other side of the room, Catranne was helping Savyna with her makeup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a bold move that would hopefully not backfire, Savyna chose to repurpose the attire she’d planned to wear to the Flower Festival before she’d been drawn into Kalas’ pilgrimage. Although Xelha worried it might be too exotic for Al Fhard sensibilities, it was undeniably regal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a departure from her usual geta, she had opted for a pair of stilettos. The main body of the shoe was fashioned from some sort of reptilian skin, scaly and green-tinted orange. The heel itself was the creature’s fang, affixed perpendicularly to which was a functional timepiece. The footwear accentuated her already shapely legs, as could easily be seen through the slits in her skirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cut up to the hip and made from the same hide as her shoes, the knee-length skirt had clearly been designed for breathability in the sweltering Anuenuan climate. Hopefully Savyna would not find herself in direct sun during the summit—the slits partially exposed her lower set of cheeks, which would doubtless make the upcoming debate a greater pain in the rear should they get burned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making up for the relative plainness of her lower half was a cheongsam-style tunic. It stretched from the meeting of her legs to just below the chin, the standing collar joined at the top to create a teardrop. It too was slit, though wider and up to the waist. Where the collar had basic gold trimming—the same style as Lyude’s—the lower hem was a glossy green cord, twining like a vine. To add to what was a convincing facsimile of plantlife, curling tendrils and narrow leaves periodically emerged from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The symmetry of the tunic’s form was broken by the arms: the right had no sleeve, whereas the left was fully encased. Rather than hiding her amputated limb as per her daily attire, it became something of a centerpiece. A metal ‘cap’ was placed over the end, held in place by a series of thin chains draped across either shoulder. Upon closer inspection, the cap’s face was another clock, with what was presumably her family crest decorating its background. Additionally, the chains connected to a functional hourglass brooch on the back of her left shoulder, which held in place a round-bottomed triangular cape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In contrast to the tunic, which was white with a plum blossom motif over the right side of her chest, the cape was pitch black silk, uncolored save for a red hourglass in its center. As the fabric bunched together when not manually spread, the design was mostly hidden in its waves. Her right arm was encased in an elbow-length gauntlet composed of, in alternating horizontal strips, gold and reptile hide. The same leaves from the tunic jutted out over her elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In typical Savyna fashion, she had few accessories. A leaf-shaped golden bracelet on her upper left arm, a black pearl necklace with hourglass pendant, and a loose end amongst the chains with the same pendant were all that she had below her head. She had traded her ponytail for an updo bun decorated with two of her plum pins. Her bangs were styled the same save for the ties being replaced by golden hourglass ornaments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And crowning them all was a temple-spanning circlet. As all the other metal pieces, it was pure gold, brilliant against her dark hair. Its design was relatively simple, considering its weight in the proceedings. There were three visible parts: the bottom wire, which curved in such a way as to make her face appear heart-shaped, as well as a pair of minute hands in the serpentine style that formed an ‘x’ in the center of her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Your Majesty!” chirped Catranna, noticing their audience, “Do you need us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just wanted to let you know that a messenger arrived from K.E.S.U.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She immediately abandoned the primping to rush to Xelha’s side. “Any news about Kodelle?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Xelha replied, “They agreed to a summit, though they’re not happy to have to share it with the Emperor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t be much of a point without him,” she snarked back, “I guess sis went to get him on board?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As well as to spread word to the unaligned Al Fhard,” Xelha agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush, wiping the oil off his hands with a soapy rag, commented, “In that case, I imagine the talks will happen sooner rather than later; the loss of the other nations has long been a talking point for traditionalists—to ignore the summons of an Al Wezni would be disastrous to public opinion.” He resealed the pomade and packed it back into his toiletry kit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha didn’t have to imagine such a thing would be the case—Wazn had reacted similarly several years earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brought from the long-since-dissolved Miran Empire by way of a temporal distortion in the Trail of Souls, the sisters had quickly realized that they were greatly outmatched by their circumstances. They sought the aid of their Wazni cousins, who revered them as heralds of an era of enlightenment. Xelha was ashamed to admit that she’d been a part of that unasked for burden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though her mother hadn’t been able to return them to their own time, the Ice Queen, with her access to Shiva’s generational knowledge, had been able to communicate with them in their native tongue: a dialect of Late Ancient Al Fhard. Prodigious scholars all, and enjoying Barnette’s tutelage, it wasn’t long before they were competent in Modern Yevonese. From there, they had been more than capable of earning their keep by translating old relics and correcting historical drift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even without exact knowledge of their background, the return of the Al Wezni in the current tumultuous circumstances was sure to have incredible impact on the downtrodden peoples of Alfard.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The day of the summit arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the sisters to weave protective magicks against fiends both endemic and transdimensional, as well as a perimeter showcasing every form of artillery a century-long arms race could inspire, enough citizens felt it was safe to attend that it looked like a proper occasion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nihal had been transformed into a silken paradise, the entirety of the valley shielded from the sun by tapestries and the like. It reminded Xelha of one of the towns they’d passed through on Mira, though thankfully lacking in giant spiders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although the craftsmanship was such that she’d never seen—each faction represented went about their art with the grim determination that they would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>better than the others</span>
  </em>
  <span>—it was the genuine pride of a broken people that beautified what might have otherwise been a doldrum of sand and canvas. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the spirit of Alfard, long choked out by the engine of imperialistic fervor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The people did not quite appear happy in the manner she strived for in her own subjects, but there was a liveliness that had been sorely lacking for the entirety of her stay on the island. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quiet dismay of the Al Zhani, too exhausted for even resentment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The desperate, empty opulence in the daily life of a Mintakan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>K.E.S.U, with their shoulders whittled down to a bust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soldiers following any directive that made them feel worth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All had vanished into the bustle of purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether it was hope for a savior, nonlethal preening, or just the long-forgotten sight of the mysterious Al Wezni, every passer-by seemed revitalized by the historic event unfolding before their eyes. It was as if all had been born anew with all the passion of their nation’s epithet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could almost forget that the gathering was due to a manufactured succession crisis rather than a festival market. Even Xelha, with years of trial-forged experience in steeling her nerves, hadn’t fully braced herself against the upcoming bureaucratic nightmare before it was time to make their entrance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To avoid pre-bruising the relevant egos, each faction approached the senate pavilion at the same time from different corners of the encampment; none would see each other until all had gathered at the same place. The walk Xelha experienced as part of the prodigal heiress’ coterie was exactly as chaotic as anticipated. The common sentiments seemed to be split between a blend of terror and hatred for the so-called Mad Bitch of Azha and cautious admiration for a tough-as-nails icon to rally behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pavilion, though not nearly so vocal, was no less rife with charged emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sat in the center of the encampment upon a platform mound twice its height. One had to strain one’s neck for a glimpse of the enormous tent, a blaze of imperial scarlet and gold challenging the sun itself for dominance. The hazy desert air seemed to blush in awe around it, adding to the air of mystique and wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they were escorted up the stairs by grim-faced soldiers, Xelha kept an eye on Lyude and Kalas for signs of flagging strength. But it seemed the grace period between consuming the heartenbrace and the date of the summit had been enough to grant them the necessary stamina. Just as well that Geldoblame had denied Kodelle for nearly two weeks—Lyude had only just recovered enough to go without a wheelchair, and there was no alternative means of entry that she could spy. Just in case, he held a ‘decorative’ cane tucked in the crook of his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the top, a drape patterned with the Alfard flag was drawn aside to usher them in. The round tent had been arranged into three sections of tiered seating: one for the pro-Geldoblame senate, one for the pro-Lyude resistance, and one for the scattering of politically neutral influences (mainly nomads with limited interaction with the central government and a handful of colonial representatives). The lowest tier was reserved for the candidates and their attendants, the second the senate and their counterparts, and the highest?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The legacy of Wezn held true, for Kodelle, Glamyss, and Catranne were seated in the place of greatest authority, more so than even the senate presiding over the case. In the interest of conveying neutrality, they sat with the imperials, K.E.S.U, and the unaligned respectively. For as much as they held no actual voting power, the same clout that had let them issue the summons was working again to legitimize the admittedly shaky claim that would soon be laid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few more Al Fhard trickled in and joined the second tiers. They wore drab grey uniforms and beaded mortarboard hats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Court translators,” Lyude murmured from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A necessity, seeing as how the summit would be conducted in Yevonese for the sake of the sisters, who’d had neither the time nor accessible resources with which to obtain full fluency in Modern Al Fhard. While court officials and colony dwellers were generally multilingual, roughly half of the K.E.S.U. representatives couldn’t understand more than basic Yevonese. As for the remainder, few had reason to learn even that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honorable cousins of all stations,” Glamyss began once everyone was seated, “I thank you for entertaining the concerns of one so lowly as I. I would extend this thanks to His Magnificence in particular for his cooperation in these trying days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame’s nod of acknowledgment bordered on gracious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A senator with rectangular glasses coughed delicately behind his hand. “Yes, indeed, these are trying times… trying, trying times….” Under a countenance of doddering buffoonery, however, Xelha caught him subtly reading the room. He coughed again and continued, “For His Late Excellency’s heir to become known to us is fortuitous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was sure that if she and Kalas were to risk exchanging a glance, she would see the same conclusion in his eyes: once the senator had ingratiated himself to his emperor’s political rival, he would call into question the validity of her professed heritage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As agreed upon, she carefully stepped on Savyna’s toes: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Be as blunt as you can without justifying their offense.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Playing by courtly manners was unlikely to gain her favor with those whose political fates were likely tied to Geldoblame’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for your kind words, senator,” replied Savyna, managing to sound only slightly facetious, “My father, the late Prince Shanath, is surely smiling down upon us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unlikely</span>
  </em>
  <span>, said six strained smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had not heard of the prince’s death… nor much else of him since he lost his father’s favor,” said a man with a handlebar mustache. He was the first to offer his most insincerely sincere condolences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Visibly gritting her teeth at the slight, she continued, “I regret that my learned father is not here to speak on behalf of our claim—my calling has been as Lady Death of the Mad Wolf unit, a soldier, more than it has statesmanship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha heard harsh whispering from behind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no, did some of K.E.S.U. not know about that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The first senator’s nose twitched, as if scenting a trap in her admission of her own unworthiness. Nonetheless, he pressed on. “Ah, yes, well… it is not uncommon for the roots to settle outside the garden.” It wasn’t a familiar turn of phrase, but the meaning was clear. “You need not concern yourself with such frivolities, if you do not feel beholden to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The less subtle amongst the senators let slip condescending smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem to have misunderstood my intentions regarding these ‘frivolities’, my lord.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha made a mental note to have </span>
  <em>
    <span>words</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Kalas at the first chance; that move had his name written all over it. At least there was a silver lining in that the senate had clearly planned their approach around Lady Death’s reputed mannerisms—perfectionism, bloodthirst, and, most of all, </span>
  <em>
    <span>silence</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They didn’t seem to know how to react when faced with someone who was so very disinterested in political games, to the point of not bothering with so much as an effort to follow the unwritten rules.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More worrisome was Geldoblame, who was watching the proceedings unfold with neither interjection nor apparent distress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a soldier,” Savyna repeated over the senator’s fake coughing, “A soldier turned sellsword. My father died before I could learn how to be anything else.” Her voice sank to a controlled primality, a matter-of-fact darkness. “And I have burned more than bridges with regards to our people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Handlebar’s neighbor, who was a spindly older gentleman, took the bait. “Then it would seem this matter of succession need not have been made into such an affair… grateful as we are to have been enlightened on the truth of a great dynasty cut short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hook, line, and sinker!</span>
  </em>
  <span> crowed her head-Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before Savyna could make her move, the mucousy voice of Emperor Geldoblame broke her momentum. “My dear senator, surely we can grant the princess the opportunity to… contextualize her rather spontaneous interest in my throne.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He must have figured us out—or at least caught on that the current administration overreacting was part of our plan,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xelha realized, quickly scanning the senate. Unfortunately, two decades of governing together had fostered their insight, at least as far as it concerned the Emperor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha repeated her signal from earlier. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As you were.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Your Excellency.” The delivery was too stiff, but it would have to do. To the senate, Savyna explained, “I’m well aware that I am unfit to rule for a variety of reasons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Xelha’s annoyance, all eyes flicked down to Savyna’s missing left arm. She could only hope that Kalas wouldn’t let his feelings show in the moment… as well as that the opposite would be true once they were in a private space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it became apparent that no one would fall for the bait a second time, Savyna continued, “My petition for the restoration of Olgan’s heir is not on behalf of his granddaughter, but of his great-grandson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused artfully, just as practiced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame, to his credit, only briefly scoffed at the notion of the 25-year-old Savyna having a child old enough to inherit the throne. Then, face twisting like a willow knot, his neck snapped as he connected the dots. For all his shortcomings as a ruler, he was too shrewd a politician </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to take note of the well-dressed man waiting for his cue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a single gesture, the Emperor quieted the whole room. Glaring at Lyude, he said, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>applaud</span>
  </em>
  <span> your gumption, boy, but you’ve much to learn about the wielding of power—foremost that it must be gained before it can be abused.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, she had to be impressed by his rapport with the senators, for his single statement was enough for them to regroup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“House Lyuvard has no blood claim,” agreed Handlebar, “and wardship is only a valid alternative—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—when producing biological offspring is impossible, right?” Kalas interjected, no better at faking innocence than he’d been when they’d met. From the corner of her eye, she saw him indolently tick off criteria. “End of a bloodline, impotency, barrenness, and—how did the law put it?—’reproductively incompatible spouses’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha jumped in before his instinct for mischief could take over. “Unfortunately, the Princess Consort is part of the defense committee, and won’t be able to make an appearance before this council.” As lovely a person as Lolo was, it was better that she never, ever meet the senators. And if they assumed she was Al Fhard or Al Wezni by virtue of her role with the machina-heavy perimeter? That would forestall any xenophobic backlash against Savyna or Lyude, at least until their claim was solidified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll excuse my scepticism,” said Geldoblame, eyes never leaving his loathed enemy, “but this is all rather sudden. Is it not a trifle convenient that this expatriate—who, it must be noted, has made no secret that she opposes my rule—should be the scion of the final great dynasty, and yet can present no proof of her heritage? Is it not convenient that she has claimed the notorious turncoat, Lyude of Lyuvard, as a ward, yet cannot produce her alleged wife?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite the conundrum,” agreed the only female senator, malevolence crackling beneath a temperate exterior, “While I cannot deny a certain resemblance to His Highness and the late empress, the people would never accept such threadbare evidence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first speaker added, “Why, by such a model, one might take his red hair as evidence that your ward was begotten of our Emperor Geldoblame!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keeping it classy,” she heard Kalas mutter under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, Geldoblame himself seemed the most peeved at the comparison. Such darkness crossed his face that, for a moment, Xelha wondered if it wasn’t true. Having an emperor for a father would certainly explain why an illegitimate child had been granted such a life as he had been, as well as Geldoblame’s fixation on him and his blood. But then Lyude turned, and his unusual pupils reminded her of why it could not be so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the flash of magnus faded, Lyude approached their opposition and, with a bow, presented their secret weapon: that fruit of bureaucracy known as paperwork. “Though it pains me that our good names are not enough to allay the court’s apprehensions, it is most heartening to witness their concern for Al Fhard of all stations. We, in turn, would gladly submit ourselves to the burden of proof, should we be honored so by your magnanimous selves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The senate eyed him as if unsure if he was being sarcastic (something she herself hadn’t quite made a judgment on). But, as it was Lyude, his tone conveyed nothing more or less than the utmost sincerity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there was the matter of the papers he held: were they legitimate? forged? a collection of bad poetry meant to bluff them out?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although they appeared perfectly calm, Xelha knew that they had to be nervous. After all, they were at a disadvantage—no matter what they did with the papers, the presence of so many and varied representatives would ensure some kind of impact on public opinion. Acknowledge the evidence and give it credibility? Ignore it and appear weak? Destroy or otherwise suppress it, thereby assuring previously ambivalent parties that there was definite merit to the claim? The senate had been forced onto the defensive without even knowing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, it was a member of the unaligned faction who made the decision. Hobbling over, she crooked her finger at Geldoblame and made a series of gestures. Whatever she’d signed, it was convincing enough that he laid the documents out across his desk and ordered that his senate read it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s… out of character.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Try though she might, she couldn’t detect any tics that might shed light on his emotional state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One by one, the documents were scrutinized, some of which Xelha was already planning to implement in her own country. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(The concept of a ‘birth certificate’, for example, seemed like it would be useful in both an official capacity and as a memento. Preferably in a more durable medium than mere paper—crystal, perhaps? And then it could be made into a pendant….)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Everything… </span>
  <em>
    <span>appears</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be in order…,” grumbled Handlebar, thumbing the corner of Lyude’s wardship papers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nomad elder was peering over Savyna’s hair ornament, which, as it turned out, was a nuptial symbol and was engraved as such. She beckoned over a peer better versed in Yevonese to confirm the message (“O Savyna, I crown thee in the manner of the Celestial Tree, that our roots may likewise twine—Lolo”).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glamyss rose to address the room. “Then, is it agreed that below me sits Princess Savyna and her heir apparent, Prince Lyude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Begrudgingly, it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The female senator, pushing up her half moon spectacles, commented, “Veins that run blue are all well and good, but it is by your hands that the streets have run red, is it not?” She betrayed her true intentions by directing her words, not towards Lady Death, but rather the Angel of the Commons. “It is another matter entirely to entertain the notion of criminals on the throne.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those bastards,” Gibari muttered as her colleagues joined in, “They know full well that it isn’t like that.” His fists curled. Then just as quickly relaxed when Larikush prodded his calf with his staff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a sickly-looking senator with the depleted vocals of a chronic bellower began waxing philosophical in response to a K.E.S.U. representative confronting Geldoblame about his policies, the proceedings were interrupted by the sound of feet pounding up the stairs outside and the resulting protestations of the guards.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rrrri-i-i-p!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In the newcomer’s haste to enter the pavilion, they tore down the drape at the southern entrance. They wore the uniform she recalled seeing on patrols midway between the edge of the encampment and the central plaza. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wild-eyed and out of breath, the guard choked, “<span>Quw—Quw Rolakqat</span>—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How mean of you to spoil the surprise~♥~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone, no matter their allegiance, froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia brushed past the petrified guard, followed by a once-more human Fadroh. She curtsied to the assemblage, saying, “My apologiesI for being so tardy. My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since she’d last seen her, Melodia had changed drastically. Her clothes, the same as she’d worn on the pilgrimage, had lost their pristinity. Her sleeves had been so heavily damaged that they only barely reached her elbows, with what strips remained of the lower portion drawn up to the collar and knotted together. Worse off were her feet, which were covered solely in dust and scratches. Conversely, her gloves were as pretty as if she were attending a garden party. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything else was tattered—stockings, veil, and skirt. Xelha had previously compared her to a jellyfish, but that description was more apt than ever before. Her skirt tendrils moved with the same dreamy quality as they had when whole, briefly catching on the tier structure as she settled herself in the empty bottom tier of the unaligned section.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because there was no third contender to necessitate a seat to have been placed there, Fadroh lowered himself to all fours, getting into position in perfect concert with Melodia bending to sit. She made no effort to adjust her pace for him, seemingly paying him no heed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So there you are, Kalas,” she continued into the uneasy silence, “Why don’t you make yourself useful and relieve me of my travels?” Her arched foot made it all too apparent what she expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the hell would I do that?” he snapped back. Though his words were big, he’d tucked his limbs close to his body, compact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips pursed in a patronizing smile. “Still playing the hero? Or are you trying your hand at the fool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the pause that followed, it was as if the two were speaking telepathically, for then, with no cause Xelha could discern, he rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could take that first step, Mizuti yanked on a double handful of his cape. “Kalas!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning, he slowly gave them a hug, whispering directly into their ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever they heard, it made them nod and release their grip. “The Great Mizuti be on the job,” they said, concern lacing the softspoken words. They squeezed him back tightly for a few seconds, then negotiated a seat exchange with Gibari, who’d been standing closest to the third section.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kalas strode past, Xelha tried and failed to catch his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas!” she called after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Accepting a bowl, cloth, and vial from a nervous attendant, he knelt and began washing Melodia’s feet. Based on the scent that bloomed from his ministrations, imperial hospitality had seen fit to provide rose petal water in place of the standard well draw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As with Fadroh, Melodia ignored him once she deemed him in his place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To what do we owe this displeasure?” sneered Geldoblame. To his credit, he was not the least bit cowed by her display of power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So belligerent, Your Magnificence,” she teased, a hand straying down to play with Kalas’ hair, “And to think I came all this way to settle this little squabble over succession.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha couldn’t take her eyes off those dainty fingers, crowned in blue locks.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crowned in blue….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” gasped Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna had tensed as well. Kalas, no doubt having been the first to recall a certain painting in the Calbren manor, gave no reaction at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia watched and smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring down at the interloper, Glamyss’ eyelids were narrowed almost to meet the edges of her pupils. Clearly the events unfolding were not among those she had Seen. Nevertheless, she asked, “How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo crossed his arms. “Obviously she intends to claim Alfard for herself by right of conquest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant, Xelha was the center of attention. Even Kalas was watching with thankfully dark-hued eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He knew and he still…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Have faith’, she’d told him before.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Faith….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… she doesn’t need to do that to have a legitimate claim….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha stared back at their unexpected competition. Studied her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Picturing what she remembered from that day, she could see a resemblance to both parents. The shape of the eyes and jaw, the play of her smile….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari, who had a look of sick realization about him, argued, “Why would a Calbren have claim? Melodia’s parents were the Grand Prince and Princess, Marno and Margaret!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia chuckled wickedly. “When we first met, I thought for sure that their stories were wrong. But it seems twenty-two years wasn’t long enough for you to grow a brain, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uncle Gib.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You little…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold your tongue!” demanded Geldoblame. In her distraction, Xelha hadn’t noticed his approach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia allowed the emperor to seize her chin betwixt index and thumb, using the vantage to examine her in much the same way Xelha had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever he saw, it clearly displeased him. “I suppose the puppet took Milliarde’s place as sacrifice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew without asking that he was referring to Guillo—the real Guillo, the godcraft that had served as Lord Sagi’s guardian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Father’s role was fulfilled by the fragment of Malpercio that the empire so kindly implanted in him, a subject in the Maledeiter Project,” Melodia explained, cheer rising proportionally with his ire, “They then eloped to Mira, with only their dearest friends having any idea.” She affected a sudden realization. “Oh, silly me, I forgot—</span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were one of their friends as well!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame tore his hand away and skulked back to his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emperor Geldoblame was the High Summoner’s friend?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was apparently well-known, for even among her comrades most remained unsurprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His defeat was not enough to sate her. “I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t already know all this… unless they didn’t tell you! No, that couldn’t be it… perhaps you were too busy salivating over my grandfathers’ throne? Or were you afraid the quaestor’s body would become as cool as his heart?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kalas was torn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no denying that it had been a devastating insult, and one that he had to feel sorry for the recipient of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that would mean admiring Melodia and pitying Geldoblame.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At least that’s one mystery solved</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, dabbing the muskroot perfume on Melodia’s feet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He didn’t know enough about succession to ascertain the stronger claim. Was it Savyna, last of a storied dynasty? Or Melodia, successor to a more recent emperor?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chanced a peek at Geldoblame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked away as quickly as possible; he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t want to sympathize with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, it’s not like I don’t have other things to worry about….</span>
  </em>
  <span> Finished with his task, he drew back onto his haunches. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I know Melodia….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Right on cue, she drawled, “Oh, Xelha, you’re a lovely girl, but you clearly don’t have what it takes to keep our dear Kalas in line.” With a snap of her fingers, she ordered him back onto his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay. This’ll do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop talking about him like he’s a pet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whistled internally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, I can definitely work with this. Just got to time things right…. Here’s to hoping the ‘Divine Child’ is still a big deal for these guys!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And here I was, trying to be a good host,” Kalas grumbled, ignoring the simultaneous hissing from Papa and Giacomo, “Acting like you own the place, just because you had a royal grandpa—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, did I say that?” Melodia tapped a finger against her lip. Far from striking him as he’d planned, she seemed amused, triumphant even.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s your angle, Melodia?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Because he had clearly played into her hand, even if he still couldn’t tell how.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stated earlier that your mother was Lady Milliarde, daughter to Emperor Baelheit,” said Lyude, the former praetor’s voice ringing with authority. “Are we to believe that you revoke this claim?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It clicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Kalas?” she purred, more smug than he’d ever seen her, “You’ve always been quick on the uptake, if nothing else. Be a good boy and tell your friend my little secret~♥~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw clenched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas?” Xelha’s voice wobbled. Did she think he’d betrayed them again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up and walked mechanically back to his station, Melodia’s laughter beating against his back the whole way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough dramatics,” scoffed Geldoblame, the shameless hypocrite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sipping some water to buy time, Kalas cursed himself for not being more thorough in his research when he had the chance. If corroborating records existed at all,  </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Chain in Twain</span>
  </em>
  <span> would have been the most likely place to find them. Not that anything about the situation was </span>
  <em>
    <span>likely</span>
  </em>
  <span>—it barely qualified as plausible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milking this for all it’s worth, are you, boy?” Though his tone was dismissive, Giacomo hovered protectively at his side. It was strangely comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Savyna is older, so it wouldn’t make sense for Olgan to be the second one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti elbowed their way to his side. “Kalas be alright? Not be sick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spared time for a nod and a pat on the shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Baelheit goes with Milliarde, and Geldoblame… if he’s ever slept with a woman, then I might as well give up on my ability to read people. Which only leaves…. But who would be able to…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas flicked his eyes towards Geldoblame.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a long shot but it’s all I got.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His glance didn’t go unnoticed by the bitter emperor, whose face was buried in deepening frown lines. “Speak up, if you’ve anything worth saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Right,” sighed Kalas, wondering how to get his answer without having to sit through a tirade, “I think I’ve got it figured out, more or less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A curled lip. “Interesting. Or so it would be, if His Lordship would deign to share his thoughts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like you’re one to talk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, about that—there’s something I need you to clear up for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The quaestor… Verus, right? The one who was emperor—for what, a day or so?—after Baelheit. It sounds like you knew him pretty well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust that there is a point to this line of questioning,” he grit out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And they call me impatient,” Kalas muttered. Raising his voice, he asked, “Did he have any kids?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were Geldoblame not so thoroughly clad in makeup, Kalas imagined he would have gone pale. As it was, his eyes and nostrils flared, then he slumped down into the velvet of his chair. He turned away, but not before Kalas caught a glimpse of a face ravaged with humiliation and regret, eyelashes clumped together with partially shed tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What the actual fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia applauded prettily, the harsh claps muted by her gloves. “Well done! Yes, Lord Sagi—my dear father—was indeed begotten of Emperor Verus. In my veins flows the blood of two emperors.” Malevolence glittered in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Guess that means </span>
  </em>
  <span>Melodia</span>
  <em>
    <span> has the strongest claim. Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t attempted genocide disqualify you from career politics,” Kalas drawled.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then again, it’s not like it worked that way for Geldoblame.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“How uncouth!” she stated haughtily, staring down her nose at him, “As if divine retribution is at all comparable to petty blood cleansings... like the one carried out by your friend over there. What was it called? ‘Operation Sweep’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mentally apologizing to Savyna, he argued back, “Then it’s a good thing our candidate is the guy who </span>
  <em>
    <span>opposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? The man said to have hung for his crimes… what was it, three years ago? How can we even be sure—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Allow me to clear up this </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> mystery,” sneered one of the K.E.S.U. leaders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he moved enough to see her, it was too late to react. A grim-faced man with lilac hair to her right had already run her through with a spear, and was kicking her body off to tumble to the ground. It lay there, bleeding and broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty convincing, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a gust of sand-laden wind, the woman stood next to her own corpse, toeing it distastefully. Far from flesh and blood, it was now clearly a sack of beets with a painted beard and mismatching button eyes. It seemed to gaze at the magenta pool of its ‘blood’ with resignation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I took care of the switch on execution day,” the woman explained boredly, “We meant to keep him in a safehouse ‘til we could arrange transport out of Alfard, but boyo here just couldn’t sit still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude bowed his head. “When I learnt of the plans to invade Diadem from my keeper, I left the safehouse—I couldn’t stand by while the madness that has embroiled my homeland spread to other islands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia smirked. “A murderer, a has-been, and a man who places the safety of another nation over that of his own… it’s no wonder Alfard is such a broken land, if these are the bastions of her hope. But have no fear, my poor lost lambs….” Her voice dipped. “I can fix her, just as I fixed God Himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Based on their faces, it seemed that the senate had </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> realized who they were dealing with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll let me, won’t you?” she continued, sugary sweet again, “It’s not as if you have any hope of opposing us. Come, be as my Brethren and revel in the blessings of Malpercio~”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tempting,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. Although he enjoyed his moment of sarcasm...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...the Al Fhard were whispering amongst themselves regarding what was, as he well knew, an offer they really couldn’t afford to turn down. At least, not without suffering more losses on top of the endless spiral that had been their lot since ascending with the other islands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, save for the guard that had rushed to warn their emperor of the approaching villain, who had been shunted to the background since Melodia sashayed her way in to make a bad situation worse. Their pupils had dilated to the degree that he could see them from yards away. Body quaking in place with adrenaline, they slowly raised their firearm to aim it at Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Buh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas couldn’t help himself; he flinched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere ahead of him, the sound of the machine gun died away into the sinister giggle of Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fwoosh-fwump</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet another segment of the pavilion downed, though this time it was entire panels from the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After so long in the relative shade of the pavilion, the sunlight lashed against his retinas, even with his back to the source and eyes closed. Malpercio’s power had been much the same—there were places where his memory of that time failed save for His divine light. A harsh, all-consuming light that eradicated every shadow, exposed every shame, corroded his sense of self. If not for Xelha blocking out that light….</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blocking out the light…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he peeled his eyes open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another him spreadeagled on the floor. No, not spreadeagled—standing sentinel against a backdrop of piercing white. At some point during the attack, Kalas had instinctively called out his heartwings, which were now flared as a shield against the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A reprieve from divine light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dark angel to challenge a wicked god.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d had everything backwards. His role, his tactics—he hadn’t changed at all. He was the same loser who thought Melodia’s way was the only way. The one who let himself be buffeted around by others’ whims. Even when he’d tried to take initiative—all his plans, the ideas he’d given the others—he was still waiting passively for someone else’s approval, just as he’d always done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Approval to pilgrimage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Approval to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Approval to </span>
  <em>
    <span>exist</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas couldn’t go on like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Vyaz kqohasp as aeyw jeezk</span>!” he yelled, staring down the senate, K.E.S.U, and the third section in turn. Perhaps in shock that he’d managed a sentence, none interrupted him. “<span>Ke kqu’k pez o pel es quw kalu—kqe howuk?!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead silence. Even Melodia kept her thoughts to herself, though she was probably waiting for him to put his foot in his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kuwu A neypqz—A </span>
  <em>
    <span>zqeypqz</span>—</em></span>
  <span>” The foreign word was adamant that it wouldn’t be spoken. “Here I thought you people were proud that the Empire doesn’t believe in divine ordination like some other islands I could mention! Now you’re just going to let her call the shots?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas,” Lyude weakly interjected, “As distasteful as it is to admit… Melodia does, indeed, have a superior claim to the throne.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Kalas scoffed, “She’s not even Al Fhard!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Handlebar began to bluster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” He glared the obnoxious senator into submission. “Royal blood or not, you think she cares? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> know more about what it means to be Al Fhard than she does, and I made it a point to ignore everything Giacomo ever tried to teach me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in question gave an aggrieved sigh. “Must you brag about your ignorance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too, Pops—shut it!” Kalas tousled his own hair in exasperation. “You all can kowtow to Melodia if you want, but don’t go dragging the rest of us down with you; been there, done that, and I can tell you that it wasn’t worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the noticeable lack of support from his new favorite imperial soldier, he scanned the pavilion. The sole trace he espied was the gun, bent nearly in half atop a pile of empty casings. When she noticed him looking, Melodia broke into a canary-eating grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dammit, Melodia! What did you do?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Desperately, he turned to appeal to the collective summit. “She just </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdered</span>
  </em>
  <span> one of your own! Shouldn’t you want payback—revenge—whatever?! ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sophomoric as always,” sneered Geldoblame, “There is only one thing to be done in the face of a superior force: kneel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a split second wherein Kalas saw his choices laid clearly before him, forked like a woodland trail. He almost chose to bite down his anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he caught sight of Handlebar nodding along…  the colonists leaning forward… the nomads visibly wavering in favor of the known evil….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>K.E.S.U, bitter and resentful and </span>
  <em>
    <span>silent</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flash, his sword and hackles were raised. “If that’s how you feel....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Kalas!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d thought Xelha would be the one to intervene. Instead, the queen was standing on the sidelines, staring solemnly at them all. Calculating her next move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti bobbed across the gap between them. They continued, “Be not like Melodia, my friend! We be heroes, yes? We be watching each other’s backs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know Melodia better than anybody, maybe even herself. I got this, okay? Besides, I’ll feel a lot safer if I know the Great Mizuti has my back.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They jabbed a finger under his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(For a moment he was sure Mizuti was about to jam their fingers straight up his nostrils, gloves and all. The idea inspired resignation more than any particular alarm. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed to learn to pick his friends better.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti is prepared at all times to be fighting alongside Kalas.” The finger waggled. “Even if it be against Kalas himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but breathe a laugh, lowering the sword. “Okay, point taken.” Donning a smirk to hide his anxiety, he glanced at the rest of their friends to bolster his resolve. It was okay, they could do it, they’d faced Melodia down before—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Guys. What happened to those things you had back when Malpercio revived?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna was the first to realize what he meant. The naginata appeared—which, now that he got a better look, was made of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sabre dragon fang </span>
  </em>
  <span>(the gil that would go for…!). With a flourish, the tip of its blade was joined to its newly raised peer in the Sword of the Heavens. Mizuti lounged above the display, juggling the three orbs. It was a menacing sight in the way only their indomitable confidence could manage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari swaggered forward as well. “We drove you off before, Melodia, and you had that god of yours with you that time. Why don’t you get back to him and stop pressuring these folks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> plan to?” she replied, uncrossing her legs, “Don’t forget: </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> are the interloper here, Diademi prince.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was all for subtlety—one couldn’t successfully betray entire nations without it—but he could already see half the room gearing up for superfluous word games.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Mels?” he called, “Shut up already.” Head cocked towards the senate, he explained, “When the real Malpercio was killed, the Children of the Earth used the Three Sacred Artefacts to do it. I’ve got the Sword of the Heavens….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna’s eyes never left her target. “The Chronos Spear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be wielding the Al Wezni Celestriad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I have the Ocean Mirror.” Since he’d last seen it, Xelha must have attempted a repair job, for the glass shards had been joined back in place by veins of silver. Rather than trying to convince the Al Fhard, her narrowed eyes were boring into Melodia’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who, in turn, laughed her way to her feet. “A broken mirror and a pair of counterfeit charms? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> is how you would oppose a god? It would be a kindness for me to shatter your aspirations here and now… just as I shattered that toiletry in your hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That won’t work,” asserted Xelha, brandishing the relic. It emanated power despite its state. “It can never work…. A mirror can’t be broken… trying will only make it multiply….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas barely swung his body around in time to block Melodia’s attack. At his back, he could feel the heat of Savyna’s body as she strained against Fadroh’s supernatural strength. If not for her speed, he probably would’ve been killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed that Melodia was done with grand statements for the moment, for she unleashed her wings, the force knocking him into first Savyna, then the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use the mirror!” he shouted, rolling to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silver light flooded the pavilion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The effect was instantaneous: Fadroh howled and shuddered away from where he’d been engaged by Giacomo and Gibari, while Melodia was forced to throw up a barrier. Within it, she began building up dark energies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forced to focus on stopping her, Xelha’s hold on Fadroh broke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not harm Lady Melodia!” he screamed, lunging into a backhand strike with his chain mace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It caught Gibari on the shin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Curaga Stream!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Papa was slinging magic before he could even register the bone fracturing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not so luckily, Giacomo was left with the burden of holding back the charge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But where there was a Giacomo, Folon and Ayme weren’t far behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayme rocketed through a nearby tent panel, gunblade revving, and tackled Fadroh with the torn cloth. The force wasn’t enough to topple him, but it did give Folon a chance to whip his ankles and pull them out from under him. Together with Giacomo, they pinned him as best they could, that Savyna might get a clear shot at skewering him. They didn’t make much progress until Gibari and Kalas threw their weight in as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From where Kalas clung to a bucking leg alongside Folon, he had a good view of the other half of the battle. As Xelha continued to funnel the mirror’s power at the roiling darkness that had overtaken Melodia, the latter’s shield was under constant assault by bullets courtesy of Lyude and Papa. Between rounds, Mizuti unleashed powerful blasts of magic at the cracks beginning to form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Kalas had to stop watching because the leg had grown to be thicker around than Giacomo’s torso. And was still growing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let go!” he yelped, a hair too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one grotesque arm, Fadroh grasped the Chronos Spear and snapped it in half. Savyna narrowly dodged a fist-sized chunk of bronze shrapnel that would have pierced her heart. Most of the other shards buried themselves in her stomach, Giacomo’s hip, and the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayme grabbed Folon by the ear and Kalas by the scruff, dragging them out of danger just in time to avoid being stomped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kua, erl sos</span>!” she screamed at the other fight. Not waiting for a response, she somersaulted under the blur of a suddenly much bigger flail head, coming up besides Savyna and Giacomo. She thrust a tin into their hands before flipping away, crying, “<span>Vyavv, ythu zkath!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas quickly glanced at Folon, who nodded back. Dearly, dearly hoping they were on the same page, he gathered wind and light around himself and spiraled into the air. He vaguely registered the squelch of flesh confirming that his aim was true, as well as the rumble of drilling through bone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his flight stabilized, it was to see Folon, whip blades entangled in the mace chain, be flung this way and that as a reward for keeping Fadroh from smearing Kalas into the ground. Fadroh’s left shoulder hung limp at his side, raw muscle fibers slithering from either end of the wound to fill the void between. Malpercio’s power seemed less interested in restoring the arm to its proper form—or what passed for ‘proper’ on such a twisted body—than it was in having the gap bridged, as it left the arm dangling where it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas chopped downwards at the tissue in tandem with Giacomo springing up, scythe held to hook and slice. Traces of white magic glittered at his torso.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>White magic? That means…!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Papa had peeled himself away from the others to see to injuries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa, no—!” Kalas started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the reduced pressure against her shield, Melodia countered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>DARKAJA FLARE!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pavilion was enveloped by a sphere of darkness. No, not darkness—the room had dimmed immensely, but Melodia was glowing with a strange purple (...blue?…purple?) light. Papa’s robe, too, though only on the white sections, and it was also covered in black splatters. A blazingly pink rope denoted where Ayme was working to free Folon, who was nearly as visible as Melodia. Gibari’s armor and parts of his tattoos could be seen balancing in the tent’s rafters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his awe, Kalas completely missed the series of explosive homing blasts until he was already caught up in one and flung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An armored boot halted his tumble, its matching hand hoisting him to his feet. “<span>Huut aeyw kazk ojeyz aey, jea</span>.” And then Giacomo was making his ponderous way back into the fray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right back at you, whatever that was,” he muttered back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dissipating as it was, the temporary cover of darkness suited him and his dark wings. He darted to the glowing hunk that was the Sword of the Heavens and reclaimed it before anyone could notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Augh</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three bounding steps and he was between Lyude and Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful there, Your Magnificence,” he teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude’s face set coldly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SCHWING-TING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Occupied with Kalas’ superior weight, Melodia was able to neither throw up a shield nor avoid the shining bullet. She toppled over in a splattering of blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mels is… dead? </span>
  </em>
  <span>gasped his heart, horrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pay attention, stupid, she’s pulled this trick before!</span>
  </em>
  <span> his head snapped back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, crossed rings of blood red crystals pulsed around her and she caught herself on his arm. He reacted too late to prevent her from bolstering herself with white magic, and by then her guard dog had sniffed him out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude dodged in the opposite direction that Kalas did, activating his alchemic mixer as he went. Sure enough, as Kalas led Fadroh back into Gibari’s range, he felt a warm impact land on his lower spine. Strength surged through him—strength bordering on invincibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he maneuvered around a series of rapid swings, Savyna passed him from the opposite direction. Their eyes met ever-so-briefly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Es aeyw urubus</span>,” she barked, “<span>Xelha qok o tros.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does she even realize she’s speaking Al Fhard?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he groused, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guess I should find Xelha. But first things first….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fadroh’s new, enlarged brain hadn’t done him any favors—though he had no doubt guessed that the wily raven was plotting, all it took was a few feints towards Melodia for him to assume he had it all figured out. Therefore, when Kalas danced diagonally backwards…</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>CRASH!</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>...he readily followed him to his own skewering à la dragoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following the hiss to his right, he saw Xelha ducked behind an upended tier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember when we fought Folon?” she asked once he’d joined her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he ever. “You want to make a Fadroh sandwich?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Catranne will be evoking at the same time, so… more like a Fadroh pie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, gave a cheeky salute, and leapt away. Now that he knew to look for her, Catranne was rocking from one leg to the other on the miraculously intact K.E.S.U. tier. Kalas settled himself atop a mostly-vertical pole in the ruins of another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Below, the remaining eight were struggling. Ayme, Lyude, and Savyna, as the most agile, were left to harry Melodia, herself determined to undercut the efforts against Fadroh. At every opportunity, she was intercepting Gibari’s jumps, or distracting Papa from healing, or playing white mage herself. Fadroh alternated between swinging his flail and shooting lasers from an eye that had grown in a place that was frankly obscene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could barely keep himself on his perch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha finally—</span>
  <em>
    <span>finally!</span>
  </em>
  <span>—completed their triangle, wand already in motion by the time she appeared. At the first sign of butterflies, he began yanking every ounce of mana within him to spin into a storm. Catranne, meanwhile, had an array of wind magnus hovering before her, arranged into a circle-enclosed star. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shimmering mana of an evoker at work was what drew Melodia’s attention to them, in turn allowing the others to gain the upper hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As one, Kalas, Xelha, and Catranne released their respective gales upon Fadroh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First the winds tore the pavilion to shreds, scattering the scraps beyond his line of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next came the sand to scour flesh from bone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, when at last the air stilled and the butterflies soared off into the ether, Fadroh lay with heaving lungs and very little else to his frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Choking, he gasped out, “This… is not bad… to die in the name of my Brethren….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fadroh stilled, then his features slowly distorted, disintegrated into a pine green sludge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” shrilled Melodia, turning on Kalas, “You traitorous crow! What have you done to your sworn Brother?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you mean ‘raven’? It’s even what my name means, according to Geldoblame,” he huffed right back, “It just makes you look stupid when you make that kind of—” He paused as he finally processed Fadroh’s last words.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Brethren’? As in more than one? He wouldn’t have been lumping me in with Melodia, would he?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Just in case, Kalas got some altitude and scanned the encampment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The signs of an attack were there, though it ended long before their own encounter had, based upon the lack of Malperciac fiends (or even their corpse goop). It seemed that all attention had been on the sounds of battle at the summit. That, or the representatives, who were recounting the danger they’d been subjected to from their muster location.  A distant Calcabrina gave him a thumbs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More notably, whatever conflict occurred had forced the factions, so neatly divided before, into mingling. Colonist stood next to miner stood next to imperial without incident.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m the last person who should be doing this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was the idiot who called attention to himself, so it was his job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Al Fhard, Al Zhani,” he began, buying time for the adrenaline to clear out of his thinking space, “<span>Sa sosu ak Kalas… zqu Labasu Hqarl. Zqoz kok kesu napqz, qyq</span>?” He gave the most carefree laugh he was capable of and hoped that they were all too shaken to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of those gathered chuckled nervously in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tough crowd, but I’ve had worse.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Peel zqasp zquwu kok o rez en tuetru quwu—az sapqz qobu pezzus ypra.</span>” He kept his grin light as he planned the next sentence. “<span>Kzarr heyrl. Les’z rahu az, jyt az’k zwyu.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfard </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> must have been hurting for a charismatic presence, for they actually seemed to be listening to him. Or rather, their Divine Child. Those too far away to hear his unamplified voice crowded closer, or else gossipped with those in front of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Az keyrl ju o…</span>.” He paused, ostensibly for drama but really because he could not for the life of him remember the word. “<span>...kqosu an Alfard koks’z esu Alfard zqu sudz zasu. Osl an Malpercio aks’z luol, zquwu </span>
  <em>
    <span>karr</span>
  </em>
  <span> ju o sudz zasu.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could launch into the next agonizing segment of his half-assed speech, screams broke out from all sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was plucked out of the air by a set of teeth roughly the size of his torso.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stayed very, very still in Malpercio’s mouth as Melodia drifted upwards to monologue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Kalas,” she sighed with mocking fondness, “You used to be so focused it was almost scary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept his mouth shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was apparently the wrong choice, as she scowled and snapped, “I know good breeding is too much to ask of you, but I expect you to speak when spoken to. Or,” she added, her ire replaced by that terrible quirking of her lips, “has that tongue of yours learned fear? Are you near soiling yourself? In that case, you needn’t hold yourself back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. “Are you telling me to pee on God?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technically it would be </span>
  </em>
  <span>in</span>
  <em>
    <span> God, since you’re in his mouth,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his mind helpfully chimed in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” As suddenly as she’d appeared, Asshole Melodia was replaced by Zealot Melodia. She stared down her nose at him, irises fully visible. “You’ve betrayed us in every other way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was saved having to come up with some sort of reply by the familiar sound of a sound shock gun slicing through fiend flesh. The scent of burning. Melodia’s twisted face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Firm arms grasping him. A set of scarlet bangs. Lyude’s lack of aerial prowess.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, what do you know, Lyude actually showed some political acumen—no, who am I fooling, he probably did it because ‘justice’ or something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas let himself be carried for the splash it would most likely make, given it was most civilians’ first look at their prospective emperor. Then, once they’d landed, he readied himself to jump back into fighting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except that it was a standoff between Malpercio and Mizuti, the latter so brimming with mana that it made approach problematic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just what do you think you can do?!” Melodia screamed over the roar of two powers colliding, “Your silly little trinkets are breaking as we speak!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The orbs of the Celestriad spun at their back, losing shards with each revolution. It soon became clear that Mizuti wasn’t trying to defeat the wicked god; rather, hold him off until the relic could fulfill its task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only one with enough raw magical might to withstand their duel was Xelha, who stepped exaggeratedly, as if wading through snow. When she stood directly below Mizuti, she twisted into a summoning stance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t Shiva she called upon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Pixie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aeon spared not a glance at Malpercio, however. Instead she flitted up to join the Celestriad in a counter-revolution. With the added power source, its purpose became clear: to create a portal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia seemed to catch on to something more. Together, she and Malpercio blasted Mizuti with all their power.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CR-R-RACK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever it was that broke, it had no impact upon the portal’s viability, for directly afterwards a contingent of Earth Children burst through. More and more spilled out, filling the sky above the mound, and all were chanting alongside Mizuti.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti, who, for the first time since the day they’d met, was speaking with multiple voices at once. They were all clearly produced from the same vocal chords, and yet spoke at different pitches and tempos, with different accents and words.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Roiling in the dark, the ancient dark</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As they sang, Malpercio’s mitt hands rose and pawed at his ‘ears’, body reeling in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… no!” cried Melodia, “This isn’t over!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, as was usually the case following such insistence, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> over. At least for the time being. She climbed aboard Malpercio’s shoulder and the god jolted upwards past the clouds. Xelha sunk to her knees, exhausted, and Mizuti swooned into the waiting arms of two of the Earth Children, their mask falling in two halves beside them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Maj—Lady Xelha!” One of the Earth Children raced to her, unmasking to reveal Odette. Rheong, Tik, and Wacho followed closely behind. The three sisters made up the rear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So of course Geldoblame had to open his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Hazafusk en Alfard, eyw sapqza ustawu ak konu zqak loa!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cheers erupted from masses too relieved to mind the speaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Sez es ohheysz en newuaps qoslk, se—zqeypq zqua karr leygzrukk sohu hroask ze kyhq unnuhz!—jyz ja zqu greel osl kkuoz en quw newusekz kes!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas took one look at the body language of the Al Fhard he trusted and placed a hand on his deck holster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>As o sossuw en ktuohasp, A sykz zqosh eyw neuk, new zquaw oylohaza as kzwahasp qok laktroaul, kazq now sewu urevyushu zqos suwu kewlk ubuw heyrl, zqu wukyrz en zqak kyssaz’k lurajuwozaesk!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now the senators were looking pale. He couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame’s arms stretched out unto the heavens, belting at impressive volume, “<span>Orr qoar qu kqeku rebu en heyszwa rul ze zqwuu auowk en khews, zqoz qak asnarzwozaes en zqu ususa wusoas kallus nwes zquaw uauk: Praetor Lyude, kus en Lyuvann, kus en Qeyku Lyuvard, Ospur en zqu Hessesk osl Ustuwew Okhuslasp!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Al Fhard of every walk of life cheered and screamed and cried and Kalas had scarcely realized he understood those last few words before Geldoblame made his way over with the fakest smile he’d ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Troa aeyw towz, gwoz,</span>” he spat under his breath as he placed an arm around Lyude’s waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude, soon-to-be emperor with his predecessor's public blessing, lifted an arm and waved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if it was stilted, his subjects were all-too-happy not to comment on it, assuming they noticed at all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 21/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 7/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. In Which the Ends Justify the Knot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The coronation, as the summit preceding it, was rushed. Sped forward as much by necessity as it was mutual disdain, the entire affair was planned down to the minute by a team consisting of senior scribes, stewards, and a variety of court officials Kalas couldn’t be bothered to learn the titles of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He himself had been requisitioned to act as some sort of master of ceremonies. The request was just as quickly withdrawn upon the reminder that he would happily watch the Empire burn. He’d learned to see too much of himself in her people to actually feel that way anymore, but he was more than happy to throw around whatever epithets would get people off his back, ‘Divine Child’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> ‘White-Winged Darkness’.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The throne room hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d been dragged before Geldoblame some seven years ago. The sunburst throne, the decorative golden pillars—Geldoblame had somehow refrained from putting his own gaudy take on the already ostentatious hall. In fact, by replacing the red carpet with a grey one, it had gotten more tasteful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although his newfound appreciation could just as easily be due to having most of his view blocked by the attendees, who weren’t allowed to sit until Lyude did. Someone else being the center of attention made all the difference in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas had, in the end, stood separate from the others, most of whom were attending in an official capacity. Lurking at the back, his only glimpse of Lyude had been immediately after he entered, arm in arm with Savyna. Unlike at the summit, neither was trying to placate nobility with imperial frippery; they arrived in parade uniform and refused all additional adornments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, you are one of Lyude’s friends?” asked a kindly voice to his right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even farther from the excitement than him was an old woman in a heavy green overdress and white veil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah,” he agreed, at once relieved and ashamed to claim that title, “If you’re asking, you must know him too…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The veil bobbed. “I am Almarde, his former wetnurse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be proud of him then.” Three sentences in and he was already resorting to platitudes? He hoped she wouldn’t want to continue the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or at least that was how he felt ‘til she turned to face him with tears in her red, red eyes and said, “More than he could ever know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Far from Melodia’s pools of blood or even Lyude’s imperial red, Almarde’s eyes were like embers from a hearth. Matching curls peeked out of her bonnet to frame a pale face. Much paler than Lyude’s, despite her eyes proclaiming pure Al Zhani blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should tell him soon,” Kalas replied, thinking back on his squabble—tantrum really—with Papa, “Now that he’s emperor, someone’s bound to do some digging. The last thing you want is some sadist to ride the melodrama and make the big reveal for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made a small, unhappy noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He added, softer, “I bet it would make him really happy too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though her mouth stayed flat, her eyes crinkled slightly. “You’re right, of course. When the war ends… I’ll tell him then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… that’s probably a good call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas didn’t notice until their arms brushed that they both had edged closer to the unexpected kindred spirit.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It was a relief when Kodelle laid a gentle hand upon Xelha’s back and guided her away from the relief efforts. She’d gotten sucked into the work the previous two nights, eager to relieve as much of the Al Fhard’s burden as possible, and never quite got around to more than a handful of catnaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can still help!” she protested nonetheless, fighting back a yawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not quick enough to fool Catranne however—Xelha was on the receiving end of an elbow jab for her trouble. “Tell us that when you aren’t nodding off mid-sentence!” she snickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Majesty,” murmured Glamyss, approaching with a cool cloth and water, “The end is nigh.” She paused to let her words sink in. “What time remains would be better spent in contemplation of all that you have achieved… and with your loved ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that in one of your visions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her reply, whatever it was, was spoken in their native tongue and made her sisters scold her amidst their giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone!” yelped Xelha, though she couldn’t stay mad at them for long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nor stay </span>
  <em>
    <span>with</span>
  </em>
  <span> them, for she saw Odette acting suspiciously just ahead. She was glancing every which way and ducking behind random objects. Now and again her hand would come into view and gesture at an unseen figure to follow. Whoever it was, they were stealthier by far than she.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distractedly dismissing the sisters, Xelha followed as well. Her suspicions were confirmed when Kalas materialized from a dark alley to join Odette in her chosen location: a partially demolished tavern on the outskirts of Mintaka. It had been deemed low priority and thus was left to rot outside the planned defensive wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long has it been now since we agreed to talk?” Kalas laughed, examining each of the bottles behind the counter. Naturally, all had been scavenged of their contents long before he arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha narrowed her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When did they get a chance to do that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had, after all, made it a point to run interference whenever it looked like Odette was going to break her queen’s oath by proxy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odette sighed and whispered, “Too long. I wonder if there’s even any time left….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s weird, I keep hearing that kind of thing—’there’s no time’ and the like.” His tone was ‘casual’. He was already working to put the pieces together. “Not that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> weird—even Lord Loophole and the Grand Princess didn’t get out of their pilgrimage without a few bodies. But something tells me that’s not what this is about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In spite of him leaning forward almost menacingly, Odette didn’t falter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Ice Queen isn’t like other summoners,” she said quickly, “You’ve seen Lady Shiva?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was time for the conversation to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha darted back a few steps, calling, “Odette! Are you there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flash, Odette was scrambling out of the ruined building. “Y-yes, my queen?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook a small coin purse. “You dropped this a while back. I’ve been trying to find you….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her subject seemed set to take the story at face value until Kalas’ voice rang out from the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to pretend, Xelha,” he said, his wings carrying him over the treacherous rubble, “It’s your oath again, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wry smile, she replied, “You know me too well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared intently but said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Odette, she said, “I’m sorry for lying just now….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The child’s jaw clenched, eyes shining. Her bow was stiff, shaking, and too deep, almost mockingly so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a pause as long as it was terrible, they stood like that: Odette angry but obedient, Xelha concealing her compassion behind a courtly mien, and Kalas gathering information from a pace back. The stillness was eerie—the only sounds were the understated whirring of a winglet and Odette’s near-silent huffs of frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At long last, Odette grit out, “By your leave then, Majesty.” She turned sharply and marched back the way she originally came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dowsing, Xelha confirmed that said march halted behind the nearest bend. She aligned herself to meet the unseen eyes. When next Odette dared to peek at the proceedings, it was followed by her scurrying off. There was only so far one could test the leniency of a sovereign, no matter how kind or just.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she gone?” asked Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could tell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s just what I’d do.” A self-deprecating grin crossed his face. “Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t do that kind of thing anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘That kind of thing’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced away quickly, then sighed and let his head slide back to stare into his collar. “You know, sneaking around, manipulating people… being like </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas,” she started. Paused. “Kalas, you’re not—I mean, if not for that part of you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, enough about me already!” he cut in, stepping closer, “It sounded like you might need a hand sooner than later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha had two choices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew what she should do: dig deeper into what he meant. Kalas had been—</span>
  <em>
    <span>was still</span>
  </em>
  <span>—hurting. From the loss of Fee to all that he’d done in his little brother’s name, from his fruitless despair to the countless lives he’d ruined and taken. She couldn’t know for certain the extent of his distress. Unless, of course, he was willing to speak to her. But no matter how well he had adjusted, the fact remained that his every word betrayed more than mere penitence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew what she should do. But Kalas himself had made it clear that he couldn’t bear to speak of his betrayal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, even as she mulled over her response, she knew that she would never follow through with it. Even if it was what he secretly wanted, even if it was for his own good, the words were caught in the sieve of her devotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas has changed so much already, but I haven’t at all! I’m the same Xelha who stood by and let him make those terrible mistakes, all because I wanted to see his smile….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… that’s right…,” she mumbled, “I promise I’ll tell you everything before we lay siege on Cor Hydrae….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that would be breaking your oath, right? You don’t have to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked rapidly to quash any emotions that might try to fizz past their cork. “No, I want to! I just… want you to hear it from me, on my own terms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cocked his head, oddly endearing despite its paired smirk. “How about this: I’ll promise not to go snooping again so long you don’t keep any secrets that are going to hurt you.” However, she’d known him through too many trials for his mocking demeanor to hide the honest concern in his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was sure it was the same for him—viewing every feigned smile through a loupe, tweezing apart every word for hidden meanings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes… let’s.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“<span>Zkasv, kea, zkasv!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zasu ath en zku uththusvu osl zkutu ath thzarr syvk ze le</span>,” Lyude argued, taking Papa by the hands, “<span>An sez net aeyt thyddetz, A thkyllut ze zkasv kkoz keyrl kofu kuvesu en su; A kub en aey zkoz aey orrek su ze tuzyts zku nofet as zkath thsorr koa, ntausl.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind them, Geldoblame lurked on the stairs into Corellia’s palace, scowling as he had every time Al Zhani passed his successor's lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” Kalas interjected before the shaky peace could shake to pieces, “Ladekahn and Gibari are there. Even if somebody tries something—” They all studiously ignored that the one most likely to cause hiccoughs was Geldoblame. “—they’ll have his back. And Anuenue’s barrier will keep sinspawn out. If anything, he’ll be safer than </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That sparked off another flurry of Al Zhani.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sheesh, Papa, we’re the only ones still here! Everyone’s probably back at the port by now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas sighed and turned away, nearly tripping over a kid in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that squeaky voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long way from Opu,” he commented, helping Mayfee back up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lo-Cid wouldn’t let me come along when that Al Zhani lady picked her up, so when I heard that big stuff was happening….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came here to find the serial meddlers,” he finished. Grinning wryly, he offered her his last pork bun from a pushy festival vendor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nibbled at it in silence. When she was done, she stated quietly, “I heard some bad things about you, ‘Lassie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you still took food from me?” At her look of betrayal, he hastily added, “Oh, come on, you know I wouldn’t—I messed up. Big time. But even I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> low.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mayfee pouted. “Don’t say that! Why do you always got to be so mean to yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t laugh at me! Kalas, you jerk!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh, you got me,” he agreed. About to say more, he caught sight of Savyna’s brilliant kimono approaching through the milling gawkers. Waving her over with one hand, he swung the other to point his thumb back towards the emotional parting behind him, exaggeratedly grumbling, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> paternal instincts are going haywire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna merely raised a brow and sent a significant Look Mayfee’s way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl seemed to get the message, placing her arms akimbo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas turned his most charming smile to her idol. “What, you’re not going to let me get away with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” And wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> a self-satisfied smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, ran a hand through his bangs, and stepped back ‘til he could sprawl on a bench. Mayfee followed, hopping up alongside him into a lopsided kneel. Savyna kept her distance, though he could see her iris occupying its corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Mayfee, those ‘bad things’ people are saying about me?” He tried for a small, apologetic smile, but he knew without seeing that his self-loathing was leaking through. “I don’t know what anyone’s said exactly, but it’s probably true. Melodia and I played everybody to get what we wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not me!” she insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Who told you about the ‘fiend’ living in the Celestial Tree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her protests bubbled down into a quiet note of dismay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” He almost laughed at the absurdity of apologizing, as if that would </span>
  <em>
    <span>un</span>
  </em>
  <span>-revive the Wicked God. “I knew what it would do to you… to have helping us be your first act as a Keeper....”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If your seniors don’t get you, second-guessing yourself will….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to him, she hadn’t uttered a peep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, so… sorry,” he repeated lamely. Not enough. Never enough. “I don’t need you going and making excuses for me or anything—I knew what I was doing wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head tilted. “Then why’d you do it?” Her tone was even. Too even. She was furious for sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he owed her an explanation, if only so she’d know it wasn’t her fault. “At the time I… well, you see….” A breath. “I, um, thought that since you decided to become a Keeper, it meant that anything that happened, you brought it on yourself. It was just a stupid, selfish justification, I know, but—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His winglet mount dug into his side as Mayfee threw her arms around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I went to the Ancient Library of Magic to find a cure for my grandma. A lot of stuff happened there, and in the end none of the adults wanted to listen to me at all. I had to make the cure all by myself, and they still kept treating me like a kid....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas patted her shoulder and tried to project ‘help me’ to Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did bad stuff,” she blithely continued, eyes earnest, “But you always treated me like a real Keeper! So I’ll forgive you this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He choked on air. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, do you even know what I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Miss Savyna!” Mayfee chirrupped, clambering off to bounce around her, “I’m going to be a Keeper and Kalas is going to marry Xelha—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His motions to pipe down went unnoticed by the two but were very much picked up on by Corellia’s court gossips, who didn’t even try to whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—so what will you do in the Eternal Calm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By Malpercio’s tainted taint, a few of the nobles were openly pitying him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Where did you hear about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas scrunched his eyes shut and focused on the flurry of starbursts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ignore them, breathe. Ignore them, breathe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone’s been talking about it! That’s why all the rulers are meeting here, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gaggle of academics were arguing the social impact of the conference. Phrases from that conversation mixed with the noise from an ethnically diverse huddle speculating on the new emperor’s matrimonial eligibility, which, in turn, wove through three separate discussions of a love triangle between himself, Xelha, and Lyude of all people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. So much of my life has been drifting from battle to battle that I want to try something new. Something I could never do before, or never got around to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a last ditch effort to block out the auditory detritus, he burrowed into the neck of his cape. The material was coarse and smooth at the same time. Thick enough to muffle the distinctions between individual noises. Still carried a whiff of machina oil from when it belonged to Lyude. It… helped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh, that must be tough. Guardians do all kinds of stuff, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing his eyes helped too. Enough so that he offered, somewhat raspily, “You could go to school or become a professor or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna hummed thoughtfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or become a pirate!” There was a delight in Mayfee’s voice that could only mean she was picturing a hook hand (or arm?).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas grinned. “Heh, would that make Lo-Cid her parrot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then his head-Lolo started making perch innuendos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On second thought, it’d look bad if the new emperor had to arrest his own mother….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mayfee pouted. “So she can’t be a guardian or a pirate…. What else is there? You’ve got to know more people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sheesh, you make it sound like I’m a delinquent or something….” He did have to admit that her plan was more likely to get them somewhere than listing off careers at random. “Well, Gramps is an engineer, Papa’s a doctor….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes screwed up in thought. “One of my neighbors is a fisher, the others run a coopery….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My best friend is apprenticing to baker and her family runs a restaurant….” About to list more, he found himself drawing a blank. The rest of his friends were royalty (or good as), and pretty much all of his other acquaintances he’d met through attempted murder on the part of one or more of the involved parties.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Man, how pathetic is it that the only people I know are my grandparents, a family friend, and former enemies? Maybe I am a delinquent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But Mayfee didn’t notice his sad little list. Hands clapping excitedly together, she gushed to a bemused Savyna about how great a chef she would make. And as she threw out ideas, something in Savyna’s eyes changed, became livelier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other pair had reached an agreement as well; Papa and Lyude were exchanging farewell cheek kisses. Geldoblame had turned away to speak with an Anuenuan in ceremonial armor, but spared a moment to glare when he noticed Kalas watching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude, gesturing to the approaching honor guard, hurried down the steps alongside Papa, repeating the same ritual with Savyna. With Mayfee he instead shook hands, which he offered to Kalas as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas hesitated halfway, staring deep into his strange pupils. “Hey, Lyude. What if….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, Lyude understood what he meant. Smiling warmly, he initiated the cheek kiss, ending it with a firm, two-handed shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the two emperors vanished into the palace, he wondered at how it had felt to partake in the customs of what was, for all intents and purposes, his ancestral homeland. The act itself was alien to him—his heart, unused to affectionate gestures, sped up as if he was some kind of romantic lead, to the extent that he momentarily questioned if he truly didn’t have feelings for the man—and yet it held a strange comfort. A sense of rightness that defied explanation. In the afterglow, he would have happily claimed that very street as his home, if not for the one that they were a flight away from visiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next stop: Balancoire.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“I see…,” said Corellia, though she didn’t appear particularly surprised by Xelha’s decision, “In that case, I wish you fortune in your endeavors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolfo grumbled to himself, but the other world leaders accepted that the interests of Wazn would be represented by the Al Wezni sisters until the courier was able to return with Barnette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was, after all, better that they not get used to the presence of an Ice Queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>It approaches.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva, for all her previous boorishness, now sounded forlorn.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xelha replied. For what else could she say?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Purged though he be of his Dark Masters, there remains malignance within him.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Irritation flickered through her. At first quashing it by rote, she then reconsidered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One might say the same of you, Mother.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shame trilled through her, but relief came on its heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>...Possibly. You will not heed the Goddess’ edict?</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Nor that of your mother?</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mother is dead. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was empowering to say. Thusly bolstered, she continued, </span>
  <em>
    <span>And even if she wasn’t, her time as queen has passed. I am no Queen Yunalesca, nor her ‘mermaid’ daughter—this is now my story, as well as my decision to make.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>...Fare thee well, my child….</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva’s consciousness slipped back beneath the waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quee—uh, Lady Xelha, are you quite alright?” Ladekahn appeared ready to rise from his seat. “You looked as if something gave you a fright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She brushed off her shock at the particular parting words and answered, “No, it’s nothing. I was lost in thought, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable, given what lies ahead….” The crown of his head sunk into view, acknowledgment of their born forfeiture of a long, well-lived life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his side, Gibari did rise. Eyes lined with speculation, he scooped her into his arms and squeezed tight. “Let’s save the goodbyes for goodbye, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She mumbled assent into his shoulder and squeezed back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You leave Lyude and Mizuti to me,” he said, pulling back to shoot her a confident grin, “I’ll keep the kids out of trouble if you make sure Kalas doesn’t get wrapped up in his head again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leaving me with the problem child?” she giggled. Giving one final squeeze, she stepped back, flicking away a tear under the guise of scratching an itch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mizuti can be a handful too!” he protested, all in good fun, “Speaking of which, I think their Greatnesses are still in the infirmary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go get them! I wanted to check on Mizuti before we left anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a short trip to the medical wing. In keeping with Anuenuan philosophy, most of the rooms were structured as courtyards with glass ceilings, so as to strike a balance between privacy and visual delight. It was said that the surrounding beauty aided in recovery, as well as eased the anxiety of death. Even for those unable to take in the sights, they were able to appreciate other aspects of their rooms—the fragrances, the warmth of the sun, a soothing breeze… to say nothing of the quality of their bedding or the masterful chefs or the bards that came by daily to provide music, news, and stories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been surprised to learn that all citizens who were in need of such intensive care were free to live in the palace. Some stayed for but a short while as they waited for a maladity to pass. More frequently seen were visitors for those elders who needed more help than their families could provide. Still others were at the ends of their lives and were provided comfort ‘til their last breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti’s room was among the farthest away, as neither themself nor any of their visitors would have trouble with the longer walk. When Xelha arrived, it was to the sight of Koh and Kay, Mizuti’s beleaguered parents, being informed on the use of a common Wazni tonic by none other than Barnette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—dosing can be tricky—Your Majesty!” Barnette exclaimed upon glancing up at the door’s creak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barnette, you made it!” Knowing her nanny wouldn’t initiate one on her own, Xelha zipped forward to embrace her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so good to see you, my dear.” When they pulled apart, she bent to retrieve a parcel from a nearby stool, explaining, “I thought that as long as I was already gathering up the materials you requested, I might as well include something for this poor child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe me, we couldn’t be more grateful!” beamed Koh… or so she assumed, given that he, like so many of the Earth Children, had difficulty breathing the thin air of the Sky without his mask. The only one among them to go maskless was Mizuti themself, as the halves of their mask lay atop their bedside table, having been sundered in their duel with Malpercio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mizuti has had us worried sick ever since they started going on about ancient wizards and wicked gods,” added Kay, fussing with the tonic label, “I thought it was all just night terrors, but then they kept sneaking off to the Labyrinth, spouting off about ‘saving the Children of the Sky’ and ‘white-winged darknesses’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking back to when they’d first met, Xelha could more than see how Mizuti’s parents could have become so desperately concerned that they would attempt to lock their child away for Mizuti’s own safety. Had she and the others not needed their help, how would she have reacted to the cryptic voice beyond the seal, singing ancient prophecies?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has the Gr—” she cut herself off before she could repeat Kalas’ mistake of using their self-affixed title, particularly with actual Greatnesses in the room, “Er, has Mizuti woken up at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two shook their heads, only to be corrected by the Great Kamroh. “You both were out of the room when it happened—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kay lifted her mask to glare unimpeded at her sheepish husband, who mumbled something about fertilizer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—but Mizuti stirred just long enough to ask after the confrontation in Alfard. Ever busy, that one. Even from their sickbed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room’s occupants chuckled, save one: the Great Krumly, who tersely cut in, “Was that all Your Majesty came here for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a result of one thousand years of enforced facelessness, the Children of the Earth seemed to have collectively developed much more expressive body language than was typically seen of their skybound cousins. It was for that reason that she couldn’t tell if she was reading the room correctly when the chief of Algorab seemed to garner an intense animosity from Kay and even Koh. As brusque as he’d been, she didn’t feel it warranted so strong a reaction. Perhaps she was being influenced by his mask, carved into an eternal grimace?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed not, for he shrunk into himself under the weight of their implied stares. Kamroh, at least, seemed to err on the side of disappointment, though that may well have been the greater insult. There was a story, clearly, but she doubted she would get the chance to hear it. There was barely enough time to settle her own affairs, let alone involve herself with unfamiliar politics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s right!” she instead exclaimed, “The council is ready to convene. Thank you for reminding me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krumly’s acknowledgment was as stiff as before. He walked briskly out the door, an apologetic Kamroh floating after him. Barnette was next, once she’d made sure everything was in order, followed by Xelha herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kay and Koh. The parents of a dear friend. How she longed to stay and chat and laugh with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No time, and so very much left unsaid, undone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Xelha! Hurry up or you’ll get left behind!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas. The source of many items on that list, as well as of uncountable regrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m on my way!” She hastened to catch up, wishing Lyude luck as she passed him on the steps. In her rush she missed a step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa there!” laughed Kalas arm extended for her to catch herself on, “Don’t go doing Malpercio’s job for him.” His smile was gentle but he had a gleam of cunning in his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I ready to tell him? ...No, I don’t think so. Not yet….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>True to his word, he didn’t press her regarding her promise, however much mental energy he was clearly devoting to figuring her out. When he thought she wasn’t looking, he sent sidelong, narrow-eyed glances at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dancing around each other like this… we really are a matched set.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But every dance had a lead, and, as soon as they were passing through an adequately noisy crowd, Kalas took it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s something you said awhile back,” he commented, his breath on her ear sending chills through her, “I had a lot on my mind at the time, but it’s been bothering me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fought back a blush. “O-oh? My apologies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of ‘bothering me’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I see. What was it I said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his jaw thoughtfully, then quoted, “‘I’ve felt a connection to you since we met, </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>you got your aeons’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She relaxed. While it would be an awkward topic, the answer was one she’d already given to Lyude. It would hypothetically be easier the second time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued, “But back on Sadal Suud, I had Diablos. I thought you’d misspoken or I misunderstood what you meant… but it wasn’t either of those, was it, Xelha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I let the truth slip,” she agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although his eyes narrowed, his countenance held nothing but patience, even to her keen sense of Kalas-tell-spotting. “My memory is kind of shit in places, but I’m sure I would remember you if we’d met at some point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The jostling of the crowd kept her from replying, so she latched onto his arm and lifted her heels for extra height—not that it was needed, for he returned the gesture and bent to meet her at her level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was three years ago,” she admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The arm in hers tensed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a vision of you and your brother on that day… as well as a darkness you would become enamoured with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew all along. What I was planning, what I’d unleash.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, more or less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you joined my retinue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to save you, like I tried to so many times in my dreams.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her very first attempt during the vision itself had resulted in her magical core being smashed in a counterattack by Sin. It had only been by Larikush’s guidance (and later supervision, following her original therapist’s treachery) that she had finally come close to recovering her full strength. Her core would never quite be as it once was, but she was confident in her endurance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s when you…?” They both knew what he was referring to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… now you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah. I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like gears, syncopated in motion from long disuse, they restored the distance between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both needed space to think.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It was just ahead. Their favorite meadow. The place where Fee died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his left, Kalas saw the remains of a waymarker. He hadn’t seen its destruction himself, but he had passed by it, still intact, that fateful day.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas! Wait!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ignoring Fee, he stomped past the west road waymarker, spitting on it in a fit of impulse.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Leave me alone!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Since they’d moved to Mira, he’d gotten used to anywhere and everywhere and everything being named, down to the last pebble. There was Long Johns Ditch, home to every drunkard who awoke to sudden destitution ever. Not to be confused with Mudwallow Ditch across from it, where pregnant hograts went to birth. It wasn’t uncommon to own an atlas worth of maps of the same city just so that the letters wouldn’t run over each other on the page. Every singular place had far too many names attached to it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That is, with the exception of Balancoire (where there was barely any point to having street names) and their meadow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was nothing particularly notable about the meadow. Which, given that there was something notable about every square inch of Mira, made it extremely notable in the most boring way possible. But that was what Kalas liked about it—it was simple, free of other people, and reminded him of his old place back in the Celestial Alps.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Stupid Lady Death</span>
  <em>
    <span>, he thought, spitting again for good measure. If not for her, they could’ve stayed forever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(The fact that he wouldn’t have met Trill or her family, or Gramps wouldn’t’ve been able to keep tinkering without access to smithies, or Papa felt bad about not helping people, or Fee being lonely... .</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas hated himself for how selfish he was.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re not even giving him a chance! Gramps doesn’t mean to hide stuff, he just….” Fee trailed off, probably to think of a polite way to say what they were both thinking. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas wasn’t interested in the polite way. “So now you’re on </span>
  </em>
  <span>his</span>
  <em>
    <span> side?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why?!</span>
  <em>
    <span> Because he’s too shitty at parenting to raise anything but freaks like us and Giacomo?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As Fee’s attempts to interject trickled off, his face took on that awful blankness of his.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait, no, Fee, I didn’t mean that! You’re not a—!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas,” he said, almost a monotone, “we’re all going to die someday….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas choked on his breath. “What—what does </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> have to do with anything?! Fee, you’re not making any sense!” When there was no reply, he reached for his brother’s shoulders. “Fee, I….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still no reply.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Instead, Fee touched his right hand to his forehead, tracing the spiral birthmark there counterclockwise, outside-in. It was something he often did when deep in thought. “I’ve been dreaming about the Great Whale lately….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas couldn’t have asked for a better opening. “Yeah? Dream up any clues to where he is? ‘Cause it’s not much longer ‘til we’re old enough to go!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, it….” Not good—he sounded far away. “The Whale fell apart into loads of itty-bitty pieces. He couldn’t stand up to Sin either. None of us can….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you talking about?” he laughed uneasily, “We’ve been kicking its ass for a thousand years now! And this Calm’s lasted, what, fifteen years? Maybe Sin is finally getting tired.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fee’s eyes had gone as flat as his face. As if in a trace, he intoned, “You don’t believe that. You think that Yevon is phooey.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Something’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘phooey’,” muttered Kalas. He loved his little brother. Would (and had) walked through fire for him. But there were times he wished he could just abandon him, usually when Fee was in one of his moods.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(That he made that distinction when he himself had much much much more difficult to handle ‘moods’ made him saw at his nailbeds sometimes. Only when it was dark in their shared room, lest he be subjected to a scolding from his brother, the mini-Papa.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So when Fee stumbled free of his grip, Kalas let him go. Watched as he climbed the slope ahead, vanishing where it flattened out into the meadow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keep up the zombie act and you’ll fall right off the island.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d meant it as a joke, but, once spoken, the words bumbled over themselves in his head. Around and around and around, loud enough to compete with the bells that the tension set off in his ears. He covered them—a psychological cure for a psychological ill—but his headspace remained as loud as ever. Worse, he could feel the breeze strumming each and every hair on his arm. If he didn’t calm himself fast, he was going to worry Gramps and Fee again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fee, whom he now felt even worse about letting wander off. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“W-wait for me! Fee!” he called, hastening up the hill.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The response was lively. He hadn’t doomed him with the uncharitable thought.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, I’m on my way up!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, hurry up, slowpoke! You won’t believe what just happened!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever it was, it was big, based on the shadow that nosed over the lip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At the top, Kalas had to gasp for breath, hands resting on his knees. It had been an emotional day, to the point of draining his physical stamina. Once he saw whatever it was that snapped Fee out of his mood, he was going to find a nice patch of shade and sleep off the too-muchness of the day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas!” A rare note of impatience had joined Fee’s excitement. “Look!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rapidly blotting out the sky was an enormous skyfish. It looked most similar to a pollywhale sans horns, but it could not be overstated how much larger it was—while its landbound brethren grew to be around Kalas’ height, this creature reminded him of the time he took a skyliner past Sadal Suud. And it only got bigger as it drew nearer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At first he wasn’t sure—it couldn’t be—there was no way—!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Whale is real after all! What are you going to ask him?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He shivered. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ask… him…?” he repeated dumbly. There was… something… about the Great Whale… something familiar—forebodingly so. It was as if some small, dark part of him was stirring from a long hibernation. Fearful, yet aroused.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I guess this is what they mean by ‘the fear of god’? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yet still he couldn’t shake his doubt. Surely the sensation was too familiar… too base… for divinity?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry, Kalas, but I’m going first!” Fee bragged, arms proudly set akimbo, “You snooze, you lose!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As the Whale took up more and more and more of his visual field, Kalas felt a round scoop burrow into his pelvis, scraping up the inner face of his spine all the way up to the tip of his chin. It was gut-lurching. It was invigorating.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Is this really…?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What had appeared to be a pollywhale’s muscular legs were now visible as a set of arm-like appendages instead. They were thick like flippers, yet had three sharply contoured digits each, as well as a detached… armguard? It was blue and sharp-tipped with the paneling of a fin towards the ‘elbow’. It overlapped slightly with a set of three slits, too neat to be gashes, running the rest of the way to the shoulder. An eerie blue glow pulsed through, glinting off of—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas stiffened, a warning suffocating in his clenched throat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An eye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An eye just past the shoulder, large and red and unblinking, with a blue-feathered crest sitting like comically oversized eyelashes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His own flicked to the head, where he spied another. What it lacked in ‘lashes’ it made up for with veins—grotesque, burgundy veins, visibly pulsating from the blood they carried. Forming a cage around the entire head, they ran across a skyline of tombstone teeth, and he could see a number of them emanating from the armpit eye as well. A fairly normal-looking fin split off next to that eye, followed by a pronged tail. No, not pronged—it was a pair of vaguely leg-shaped blobs twisted together into the facsimile of a tail.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With an audible </span>
  </em>
  <span>schlip!</span>
  <em>
    <span> its eyelids slid down.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He gagged.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This… </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>… the Whale of legend?</span>
  <em>
    <span> No, it couldn’t be. It was perverse—aberrant—a crime against nature—! His thoughts got hooked on one phrase, one idea:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A crime against nature.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, not a ‘crime’. A sin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THE sin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“K-Kalas…? Why are you making that face…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The eye was open once more, ovular pupil trained on his little brother.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fee turned back towards the God Slayer, the Earthbane, the Sin-Given-Form. Papa and Gramps called it ‘Thas’ when they didn’t want the brothers listening in. The ancients called it the Wicked God. Wezn knew it as the Beast. Yevon faulted humanity with its conception.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“O Great, Mighty Whale!” he began, so, so small in the face of Sin. Small enough for his frame to be swallowed up by the pupil beyond. “I have a real important question to ask you!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“FEE!” Kalas finally managed to shout, voice breaking twice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fee began  t-o  t-u-r-n . . . .</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>TWUMP!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas’ heart stilled. He watched Fee’s body hit its apex against a sliver of blue, then drop straight back down like a sack of grain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>CRONK!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t feel his heart.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t feel his legs either.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But somehow he was there, cradling his baby brother.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fee! Fee! Don’t leave me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sin howled. He ignored it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas…? Why is it so dark…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood was smeared across Fee’s forehead. From the fall? From Kalas jostling him? He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that the spiral—his coveted birthmark, the sign of a proper Divine Child, the symbol Geldoblame painted on his own forehead as if it, in and of itself, would grant him immortality—was hidden beneath a wash of red.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Red.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So much red.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“My q-question…,” mumbled Fee, “I c-can’t let K-Kalas down… we made a prom—....”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fee?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...I get it now. We really </span>
  </em>
  <span>are</span>
  <em>
    <span> all….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fee, don’t worry about that shit! You’re going to be okay—you can’t leave me, us, Gramps!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas… the Earth… I’ll… meet you there….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fee, no! No!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His fingers lost sensation. The body fell.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How… could you…,” he whispered. To Fee? Himself? Sin?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sin… it was always Sin. Everything in his life, all of it about Sin!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How could you?! Damn you!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wasn’t this why summoners existed?! Where were they?! Where was Yevon?! Where was the greatest god of all?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Damn the Whale for letting this happen!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Da̓ͫ̍̔̿̂ͤm̋n̓́̒͂ ͫ͑ͭ̌̃ͣ̊t̊ͦͭh̓̒ͤͥ̐͛̓e͛̏ͯͯͣ ̔W̒hͭͭ͛͗ā̊ͣ͗̉͂lͤ͋e̊ͣ̃!</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Red. Red blood, red eye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Eye of the Beast.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before he could think once, Kalas was aflight, hands clawing out before him towards that red, red, red eye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I swear… I swear I’ll destroy you!” he screamed, raking up a handful of eye jelly and slopping it clumsily into his mouth, “No matter what it takes! You hear me, Sin?!” He only managed two more scoops before he felt something wrap around him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>N̉̏̎̋̐o͌̾ ̈́ͭ̒̌mͭ̆͛̉a͂̉ͣ̉͊t̅̀̐̓tͤ̎ͮ̅ͬ͌ë́̂ͯ̆r ̉͑w̃ͨ̋͛̅ͮh͂ͣa̽̅̆̌t̿̇ͨ̔̇̋ ̈́̃̋͐̀̾iͪͤ̚t͑̋͛ ͗̊̂ͬͮ͌t͋̓͆aͥ̐͒̈́͐kͬ̇́̓ȇs̊͌ͨ͌ͫͯ͑!̔̂̽̋</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ktuozku, kea, ktuozku!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-Papa…?” It came out as a warble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zkoz’th az, vesu kovv ze su</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not Papa—the voice was too rough. “Gramps…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A snort. “I hope not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas’ eyes shot open. “Al Zhani? That’s a new one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> Al Zhani by birth, if you recall,” Giacomo drawled, letting Kalas wriggle free of the arm he’d been slung over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angrily adjusting his cape, he glared and said, “You have no right to be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Here’?” Giacomo arched his brow. “By which I suppose you mean this unremarkable meadow?” He leaned slightly forward. “Or is there something more to this place than meets the eye?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Red.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Beast.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo caught Kalas’ punch before he realized he’d thrown one. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas bristled. “You can can the lectures, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>; we might be on the same side now, but that doesn’t have anything to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bastard snorted again, though at least he allowed Kalas to reclaim his hand. “Hmph, I preferred the honesty of ‘Pops’, myself. Though I hear you also claimed me as your ‘father’—are you going down the thesaurus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a moment for him to figure out what the hell his wanna-be dad was getting at. When he did, he was ready to hit himself. “Obviously I was just using you,” he sneered, “Dropping names, buying time—you know how it goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo, he noticed, was poor at keeping his tells under control when he couldn’t hide them under layers of bulky, unyielding armor. His muscles tensed, his throat quivered, and he raked his long, loose hair back with one rough stroke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well. Make your excuses, if that’s what staunches your pride. In any case, I was asked to retrieve you by my fathers; Larikush expects to see you at dinner and Georg said he has something to give you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he pivoted and strode off, still stiff. Heavy footfalls and clenched fists.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is he… being honest?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Old Kalas would have scoffed. New Kalas scoffed a little less and reflected on the idea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever. I guess it doesn’t really matter if he knows.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing in disgust at how soft he was getting—</span>
  <em>
    <span>forcing</span>
  </em>
  <span> himself to get—he jogged the steps it would take to put him in the lead. He motioned curtly towards the shortcut they were about to miss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was confident he wasn’t losing his tail, he said gruffly, “That was where Fee died three years ago. The first attack of this cycle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. My condolences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Balancoire lost a couple districts. The most casualties Mira’s ever had from a Sin attack.” He glowered off to the side, as if the nearby sunflower was to blame. “Since when did Sin start targeting Mira anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo at least had the courtesy not to roll out the platitudes, so the trek back eventually shifted into a nigh-companionable silence.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The Pilgrimage Archives, which were less grand than Xelha had expected for all that Orthodox Yevonism worshipped summoners, were a relief after the grandeur of the Imperial Palace of Alfard. Though she’d only been once before, it felt familiar in that way that many libraries did: like a secret childhood retreat remembered only upon entry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The furnishings, few though there were, were old and worn, yet somehow more comfortable for it. Perhaps it was due to the large number of quilts left willy-nilly—simple squares and complex mandalas, artisanal stitching and amateur loops. Some depicted key moments in famous pilgrimages. Some were leaking frayed batting. A few were even being used as bookmarks while the reader napped in a nearby fold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, ‘Lassie wasn’t kidding!” Lolo chirped, taking off at a jog when they reached the correct aisle, “Only four? Wait, three." She carelessly handed off <span>the misfiled book</span> to Xelha. "And two of them look bull.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Sagi </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> fake his death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She huffed and waved off her concern. “Only because he and Milly wanted to get away from all the drama, like how I started going by ‘Cid’—now that they’re gone, it’d be a shame if people didn’t remember them. The real ‘them’, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha thought of the bundle in her arms and hummed in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stretching, Lolo mumbled, “I’m not much of a writer but… well, I’m just about it, you know? Me and Gibs and Laddy… no one’s heard from Palolo in forever… Savyna was really young… Her Majesty and Lord Rodolfo just weren’t as close….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true, but every little bit helps! Besides, I’ve met lots of people who knew them on this journey. With a little detective work…,” Xelha trailed off, recalling the suspicion ‘Guillo’ had so frequently been met with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lolo’s nose wrinkled. “Blegh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>research</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No wonder she and Georg get along so well. I wonder what they’re planning to work on….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing and leaving her to her hardships, Xelha strolled back to her own purpose in the visit. To her surprise, she wasn’t the only visitor interested in Lord Coatl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you didn’t like that book,” she teased, leaning demurely against the shelf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas flushed and clenched his knuckles tight around </span>
  <em>
    <span>Under the Serpent’s Banner</span>
  </em>
  <span>. At first he only made noncommittal sounds to her pushing. Then:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...It feels like if I don’t try now, I’ll never get another chance.” He laughed without humor. “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hefted the manuscripts. “Humans are curious creatures… we hate not knowing things… and when we have no way of answering our questions, the mysteries eat away at us. Before we know it, we’ve invented stories to explain it away.” One by one, she slid the fruits of her scriveners’ labor onto the shelf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She continued, “Someone or something will resonate with us. We’ll feel as if we know them and trick ourselves into believing the things we make up. For example, a prince departs his land under mysterious circumstances and is never heard from again.” She slid a finger down the spine of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Snake Eyes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “This was Mother’s favorite book. She used to love speculating about Prince Coatl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t expect a queen to be into conspiracy theories,” he laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she’d placed the final piece, he patted the floor next to him, shifting his grip on the book to be one-handed on the opposite side. It was uncomfortable; the stone had her backside aching in minutes, Kalas’ quilt was scratchy and had the cheesy odor of having been cleaned of vomit one time too many, and the sharp edges of the books and their shelf dug mercilessly into her spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just a little while longer….</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kalas really, truly, deeply hated when his grandparents kept secrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Think of it as a late birthday present!’ he says. Thanks, Gramps,” he groaned around a mouthful of gnats.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fwoosh-thmp.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he turned around, Xelha had brushed most of the debris from her landing off her legs. Dirt granules, moss—all that was left was a clingy beetle. “It looks like we should’ve taken the other fork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figures,” he whined, mostly for show. Having her around, being alone together—without obligation or the anticipation of betrayal weighing down the mood—made their little foray into the Celestial Alps less of a chore than it otherwise would have been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a little embarrassing that he no longer knew his way around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re making good time regardless,” she said, straightening up. “What’s that face for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, he tapped the right side of his head, only for her to mirror him and therefore miss the sprig of sumac berries caught on her own right side. On a whim, he let himself pluck it out of her curls and present it with a flourish to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” She went pink. “It must have been from that thicket….” Her hands cupped around it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing his tingling fingertips back, he eyeballed the height of the cliff just right of the path. It was a little tall, but intermittent with juts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Race you to the top!” he yelled, already crouching for the first leap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Playing dirty, are we?” She zipped past him, flitting with the ease of her wingsake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Such was the journey to Kalas’ first home. A race here, a lunch break there—only their willful obliviousness kept it from being a date. And as much as he knew he should scale back on flirty gestures like the thing with the sumac, the dread in his heart and mind was drowned out by joy such as he’d never felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just this once</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he promised himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just a little while longer. While we still have time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Time. The one thing no summoner, rich or poor, Yevonese or otherwise, would never have. When the final battle against Sin began, that would be the end. Xelha, if he understood her vague comments correctly, was to be the final High Summoner. She would defeat Sin… at the cost of her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of him held out hope that the unusual circumstances surrounding Shiva, who just had to be her Final Aeon, would result in an equally unusual outcome for a High Summoner. But the creation of a Final Aeon wasn’t what killed its summoner, was it? No, the accounts of veteran guardians made it clear: it was the summoning itself, the battle with Sin. But Xelha never seemed overly affected by calling on Shiva. But what if she traded her life force for that ability? What if </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was why she needed therapy sessions? What if—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock it off. Xelha is trusting you to wait!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But how much time did they have left? He wanted to scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead he forced himself to go faster, which he easily laughed off as recognizing the trail. To his surprise, it wasn’t even a lie—there were alterations, sure, but the landscape near the cabin was still much the same as it had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was the brook he pushed Fee into that one time. (Fee cried, which set Kalas off too, and Papa had had his hands full with calming them.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was the glen demarking where an Iron Beetle had crash-landed. (In the process of moving after the first time Savyna tracked them down, the empire caught them before they managed to pack everything. Fortunately, someone in the chain of command forgot that Gramps could communicate with the Beetle’s magna essence.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was what remained of Gertrude’s brood. (The otherwise sweet-tempered caplin hadn’t much cared for Fee. Kalas, on the other hand, she adopted as her own. Years later, it still gave him a thrill to be the preferred sibling… and guilt for not having wanted to share her.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there, towering over their wooly butts, was the cabin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had seen better days. The boards had worn or rotted away at the seams. It was likely the latter, as the wood itself was heavily stained with algae. If not for the cob walls beneath, the gaps would let in more light than the actual windows, which were obscured by webbed moss. As for the roof, between the grass and the moss—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>BAAAAAH!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And that’s it for introspection</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he mused as he was surrounded by caplin. He couldn’t get stuck in his head even if he wanted to; twenty-odd caplin, bouncing and bleeting, were more than loud enough to overpower his baggage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha was saying something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The caplin spoke louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I missed you too,” said Kalas, scritching through their flared coats, “Man, you guys are in serious need of a shave….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that any were likely to get one. They were butting past each other for his attention, nibbling on his cloak, generally making a nuisance of themselves. He also still needed to find his ‘present’ and have that talk with Xelha….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want me to come back? You know, if I don’t die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Baaah! Baaah!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good to me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he extricated himself from the herd, Xelha was doubled over laughing. “Your face—! What a handsome beard!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas grabbed her good hand and used his other to slap the stray puffs of wool off his chin. “Come on, let’s head in before </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> start growing one too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you still lo—” Thankfully, she cut herself off, blushing madly again. “Ah, where do you think we should search first? For your present, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, will that give her the right idea?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, about the present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smooth, Kalas. Is there an oliphant you want to point out too?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do know the other answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boy, Kalas, you better hope Gramps installed a self-destruct button on your malfunctioning ass.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The mental image that followed made him a little more hot under the collar than he cared to explore. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get back on track before you turn into Trill.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, s-so anyway,” Kalas said, voice pitched up as he tried to contain a nervous laugh, “Welcome to my old house, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once past the ruined threshold, the room beyond was in a much better state of repair. There were scuffs on the floor, presumably from the soldiers searching the house, but it was otherwise largely untouched. The fireplace was its centerpiece, and not just because it sat directly across from the entryway or had a Wezni rug—it was hand-hewn from solid granite and spread across the mantle, as well as a pair of ornamental side tables, there sat a trio of statues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All were carved in the image of angels, though only the smaller two were given full form. The bust on the mantle was roughly Mizuti-sized and lit by a hole in the roof.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A little on the nose there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He exchanged a look with Xelha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At worst, it means we’ll have to check somewhere else,” she offered, stepping deeper into the room, “Besides, we can always glue it back together, if need be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked past the doorside firewood rack, across the mildewy carpet, and came to a stop next to Papa’s rocking chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just got to break it,” he muttered, then reached up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could so much as touch it, the bust was enveloped by a corona of otherworldly lights. Once free of the plaster, they lazily oriented towards Xelha, stars trailing prismatic smears through the dusty air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pyreflies?!” she gasped, raising an arm to touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Pyreflies’?” he echoed, wide-eyed. The word was unfamiliar, but the same couldn’t be said of what he was witnessing. Something about Xelha wreathed in ethereal light…!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Diadem!</span>
  </em>
  <span> he realized, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Back on the docks! When she did that spell that got Melodia all excited….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas,” she said, softly, urgently, “Larikush told us about how Georg made your magnus…. This phenomenon… could he be capable of creating an artificial aeon as well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So pyreflies are connected to aeons. Does that mean that Xelha is…?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He pushed away that train of thought, though it continued to jabber from its corner. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It could be from housing Shiva, but then why don’t they appear every time? And why haven’t I seen them with other aeons?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He repeated the last question aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because Shiva so different from other aeons,” she answered, “Shiva was born of my mother’s fayth, my own body the host for her spirit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s….” She paused, then gestured toward his prize. “Let’s not get distracted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Okay.” He edged closer and cleared his throat. “Uh, hello? Is anyone there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While most of the pyreflies remained around Xelha, tumbling and caressing, some drew back towards the statue.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s no hymn either… even Diablos sang the hymn!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Which was an oddity in and of itself, given that the other Malperciac aeons didn’t. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unless it was Anima I heard?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Xelha wasn’t showing any qualms about him receiving this particular aeon, so he tried again. “Can I… may I ask your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>|Kalas.|</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at Xelha, who nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not my imagination then. Gramps said that my Heartflask used other people’s hearts as a model; i bet he did the same thing with this aeon and me. It’s not like I had any friends.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, but Kalas is my name—is there anything else I can call you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aeon stayed silent. The pyreflies, however, slowed their movements and turned a rosy pink. Gradually they drifted upwards to form a ring above him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his askance, Xelha shrugged. “I’ve never seen them do this before. Though I don’t think these are naturally formed, either. They’re not merging with….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her another look for her crypticism. Another question for the pile.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>|’Kalas’ is the only name I know. You should change your na</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>me.|</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t really work that way. Trust me, I know from experience,” he explained, wincing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>|I don’t understand.|</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas means raven, and my wing looks like a raven wing.” He called it into view just long enough for the aeon to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>|Is that why I can’t be Kalas? You don’t have much of an imagination, do you?|</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Just his luck—his present had a mouth on it. “No, uh, it doesn’t always have to do with, uh, traits?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Xelha was there to rescue him. “Names are usually gifts from someone’s parents. A lot of the time they’re chosen as something like a blessing—something their child reminds them of or that they wish for it to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas picked up the thread before the aeon could think of a harder question. “Yeah, like how Palolo and Lyude’s families reuse the same names, or how ‘Melodia’ sounds like ‘melody’. I’ve met people named Faith and Hope too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>|Faith and Hope… what about ‘Valor’?|</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see why it couldn’t be,” said Xelha, “Do you want us to call you ‘Valor’ for now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>|’Valor-for’... yeah, I like it! Valor-for it is!|</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Leave it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he mouthed to Xelha before she could reopen the debate. Aloud he said, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Valor-for!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name felt unpleasant when spoken, as if it was wrestling against his tongue to slink back down his throat. The last two syllables deeply resented being pronounced back to back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued, “So, Valor—uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Valefor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what do you say you join up with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>|Yeah, that sounds—yeah.|</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyreflies converged upon him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sensation was a hammerblow, such that he would have been lain flat had he not caught himself with hand and knee. He felt… full, in a manner that no Malperciac aeon had ever left him. Like there was a separate being curled up inside his chest, straining the bones to their limit. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huffing out his pain, Kalas stood back up with the help of Xelha’s arm. “Is it bad that I kind of prefer Malperciac aeons?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas!” she scolded, though he could tell her heart wasn’t in it, “In any case, you should rest. And….” She bit her lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And,” he agreed.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>‘And’ indeed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As there were only three sections to the house, Kalas’ old ‘room’ was, in reality, a nook cleared out from a side room loft. Just to reach it, one had to climb a ladder, pick one’s way past gutted crates, and duck around a wall of grain sacks. It was a simple space, little more than a hollow in the loose straw, furnished with a wooden pallet and bedside crate. A rag-stuffed sack acted as pillow and mattress. As he explained it, Kalas and Fee had shared the bed, while Georg and Larikush stayed in the central room, except on nights too cold to be without a fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning his smile as he reminisced, Xelha fought back melancholy. His cheeriness seemed too genuine to be a front, which meant that he probably wasn’t recontextualizing his former living conditions with an adult perspective as she had to. No matter that he cited a lack of space for their sleeping arrangements, she couldn’t help but notice the convenience of them: that the boys were cleverly hidden, whereas their grandparents were stationed at the sole entrance. Theoretically, had the empire arrived in the dead of night, the doctors would be able to make enough of a commotion to alert their charges, prompt them to flee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kalas tended to guilt himself far too much as it was, and his smile was so very soft and fond, and so she played along as best she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s one thing I don’t miss!” he mock-grumbled as he sat on the pallet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joining him, she couldn’t quite agree; it reminded her of her own bed, which, like most furniture in Wazn, was made of the one resource they had in excess: ice. A cool, hard surface suited her best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking of home made her smile dim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas cocked his head. “Hey, we’re supposed to be relaxing, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighly sadly, she leaned back, propped up by her arms behind her. “I want to rest, but… this may be our last chance to talk about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded as he too sighed. “Maybe start off somewhere easy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh. If only there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> somewhere easy.” Still, she examined the information she had to share for what must have been the hundreth—no, thousandth—no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hundred-thousandth</span>
  </em>
  <span>—time. “I know your grandfathers are Al Zhani, but you were raised under Yevon, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, sort of?” Screwing up his eyes, he muttered, “I learned enough to get by as a summoner, but Gramps wanted us to choose for ourselves what to believe in and Papa can’t stand Yevonism.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? I never would’ve guessed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. He doesn’t mind Wezni Yevonism, since it doesn’t glorify pilgrimages as much, but….” He quieted, no doubt recognizing the paternal instinct that likely drove that opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s probably for the best,” she replied, running her nails across the mattress seams, “We have records from the War of the Gods, but so much more was left unwritten.” She let herself fall back into a storm of dust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas, silent, dug through his deck holster for a means of combating the fading daylight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no one’s fault,” she decided aloud, watching him set up the candle lantern, “Our lives are so short… even if we know, logically, that we will be outlasted, we can’t help but believe that what we know will last forever. We just don’t have the ability to comprehend the vastness of time, and so the little things, things everyone knows, die with us.” She let out a chuckle. “The mayor of Cebalrai thought me quite foolish for asking for directions to Moonglade Temple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take it the name changed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somewhere, someone got the name wrong. And then it stuck,” she agreed, “It’s the same with Yevon—each island has their own version of where it came from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding slowly, he offered, “On Mira, they say it was the name of the god who ended the war. I’ve also heard that it was some sort of title.” Once resettled, he leaned in as if listening to the latest scoop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The energy was infectious, and she mirrored him, grinning mischievously. “It was the name of a small family farm!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out an exaggerated gasp. “No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After their giggles died down, she explained, “When the war was over, the people were the first to see how disastrous it had truly been. The great leaders of the ancient world gathered to witness the effects of the ichor in person. They then held what is known as the Council at Yevon to determine what should be done about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Throw the clean hunks of land into the sky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More or less. Those who stayed behind were the more magically adept.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s funny, I thought that that was Wazn’s claim to fame.” As usual, Kalas’ eyes bore an adroit gleam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I first met Lyude, I was convinced he was a godcraft… an ancient automaton used to kill the sibling gods that comprised Malpercio.” Fearing she would lose him before she could weave the disparate points of context into a cohesive explanation, she ignored the question parting his lips to hurriedly continue, “Though the gods’ physical forms died, their wills lived on as fayth, summoning the creature we know as Sin. Princess Xiuhcoatl became the first High Summoner, but her mother, Queen Yunalesca, knew it was only temporary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas mumbled to himself, the only audible word being ‘mermaid’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, she said, “The Whale was gone, the Earth was poisoned, the catastrophe was doomed to repeat, and the Ocean, the source of all life, wouldn’t be free from befoulment for long… it had to be protected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flared wide. “Wh—you mean Wazn is the Ocean?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh. Guess not. Damn, it fit so well too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to kiss the self-deprecating quirk from his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good guess,” she offered, “But the vastness of the seas… the target it would make… the risk was too great. It had to be sealed away completely until the Children of the Earth could purify the land.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a breath. Then another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dared not meet his eyes. Not with the plaintive way her name was spoken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The—the queen worked together with Mitsuchi, the greatest of the ancient wizards, to work a powerful spell… one so powerful it took the wizard’s life.” She clenched her eyes shut, opening on the exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her magnus. The Ocean was sealed inside her magnus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking the truth was not the relief she’d hoped it would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Ocean is inside you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when we defeat Sin, you’ll…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deathly still head, intense stare—Kalas hadn’t looked at her with such mistrust since the very, very beginning. “You know a lot about this stuff for someone who was just talking about how much we </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>know.” His lids ticked a hair lower—not quite narrowed, but still conveying his rightful paranoia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new question wasn’t any easier than the last. Her mother’s death was still fresh on her heart a decade later, as was the empty place where most would hold their grandparents. Loneliness could be stifled by friendly banter, but its true defeat was contingent upon finding a kindred spirit. The days when she could bear to live in resignation had departed alongside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When an Ice Queen begins Dreaming of her own death, she knows the time has come to join with her ancestors… become one with the fayth of Shiva.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against her will, the Lake of the Dragon came to mind and she shivered. The depths lined with pale reefs—a facsimile of coral grown from dozens upon dozens of slender white arms grasping up, up, up towards their living legacy. Stark though they were against the dark water, the oldest were swallowed beyond view. If Xelha were to give up her quest, allow the cycle to continue, would the Lake reach its limit as she had? Would the fayth be forced to expand upwards, out of the water? Would Kaffaljidhma gain a new spire?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Banishing her internal tangent as best she could, she said, “It’s… difficult to forget things when a first-hand account lives on in your heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas’ head turned sharply away, though not quickly enough that she missed his gritted teeth. “Ye olde conspiracies, a bottled ocean—what’s next, those pyrefly things are the Whale?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does he think the Whale is an aeon? ...No, that doesn’t fit… maybe the truth about the Great Whale lives on in Wezni Yevonism?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She didn’t remember hearing so from the sisters but it had been long enough she might have forgotten something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, pyreflies are nothing more than magna essence, so condensed it becomes visible.” To demonstrate, she reached into the Ocean housed within her and beckoned a few into the open. “When released from its physical form, it manifests as fiends or aeons… it's rarely dense enough for more than that. After all, all life returns to the sea… to the Farplane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One as curious as Kalas couldn’t keep his gaze averted for long. When a pyrefly swirled into his line of sight, he startled, glancing about him in childlike wonderment. This eventually led him back to her waiting smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth hung open. At first she thought it was out of awe, but his throat started working, as if to expel stubborn words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas? I know it’s a lot to take in.…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, it’s just—I just had a stupid thought.” He flushed. At her urging, he reluctantly explained, “Um, well… if things were, you know, normal, this would’ve been a treasure trove of bad pickup lines.” Once he’d rushed through his confession, he proved that no degree of embarrassment could depose his dry wit for long, snarking, “‘Am I in heaven or are you just the Farplane’. Something stupid like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggled. “Maybe it’s a good thing they’re not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, then you wouldn’t have to die for some stupid—” His hands bunched up the fabric of his cape and he breathed out aggressively. “Sorry, I—I get how much this means to you, I just—you should have a choice, dammit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she sighed back. She was beginning to doubt if she’d made the right decision—not because Kalas wouldn’t make for a good candidate, but because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I have to give him the chance to decide for himself. He—no, </span>
  </em>
  <span>we</span>
  <em>
    <span> deserve this!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is one thing I’m allowed to choose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded her on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It takes two to release the Ocean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas bit his lip. “Look, I’ll do it, okay—if that’s what you’re asking. But why me? There must be a million people out there who’d be happy to help the great Ice Queen Xelha fulfill her glorious destiny!” He made a sharp gesture with his far hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was her turn to go pink. “There needs to be a deep bond between those performing the rite, and I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Don’t—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The interjection came too late for her to stop; by the time she realized he’d spoken at all, the confession was already a thunderhead between them. As she’d suspected, he wasn’t even remotely surprised by it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he did speak, it was in a tone of utter defeat. “What do you need from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha explained the process of the ancient ritual to her reluctant audience. Although it had not been performed since Yunalesca herself, it lived on in a modified form by way of the transfer from queen to successor. Her own experience of the transfer combined with Shiva’s memory made her confident that she could guide him through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could tell he wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he wove his arms around her, as carefully as if she was blown glass, and said, voice hitching, “Man, oh man, when Malpercio finds out it was this easy to kill the Ice Queen….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s going to drive Melodia crazy,” she agreed with a weak laugh, tucking herself around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed like that for a small eternity: each trying to wrap the other in comfort, the embrace steadily growing closer until she could feel herself bruising. However, the thought of breaking apart right when everything was finally out in the open…!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to lose you,” he all but whimpered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craning her head up—the angle was uncomfortable but any other would require moving—she tried to peck his cheek, but missed, landing on the jaw instead. With as close as they were, she could feel the shiver run down his body. All the magic of her forebears couldn’t compare to the power she felt in that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she did it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we really be…?” Despite the question, his neck inclined to give her better access.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really know,” she confessed softly to skin rarely bared, “But this may be our last chance to hold each other like any other couple….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say things like that…,” he murmured back, relaxing into her hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With such an invitation, and the coaxing of her heart thudding through her ears, Xelha ghosted a hand up his spine to nudge his collar out of her way. “I’ve got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His neck heated up under her lips. “Dumbass, I’ve got you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, so romantic~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his disgruntlement she drew back, apologizing, worried she’d taken things too far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kalas’ frustration was with his cape, it seemed. Or rather, the funnel collar that would not lie flat. After a few attempts to fold it into itself, he gave up, jerking it over his head and tossing it on the floor in disgust. His winglet was next, though he placed it with much more care upon the crate-table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can stop laughing now,” he grumbled once he was done. Without a wall of fabric to duck behind, he seemed almost demure with his rosy cheeks and lowered chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wiping a mirthful tear away, Xelha exclaimed, “Sorry, you just looked so funny!” She mimed out his struggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” he smirked, “Now this I’ve got to see!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could’ve dodged his pounce, but it was more fun to watch him rise to the challenge of her neck warmer clasp. When his twitchy fingers finally unhooked the eye, it was slung over the corner of the crate, bells briefly rattling in protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were both down a collar, he paused. The fit of whimsy had retreated to be smothered by abashment. She didn’t need to ask to know that his past, recent or otherwise, was haunting him. His past or his doubts or his lacking self-esteem.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you want to stop?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was what she should’ve said. It was only right to give him—no, remind him of—the option. But she was afraid he would take it. And then they would invade Cor Hydrae. And then defeat the Wicked God. And then restore the Ocean. This one night, atop a bed of aged straw perfumed with the scent of livestock, would be their only chance before the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, selfishly, she closed the distance enough to hover on bended knee over his lap, gloved thumb scraping across his collarbone as she clasped his shoulder. “Is this… okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas made a small, choked noise but nodded, imperceptibly at first, then with vigor. He carefully slipped off his armwear and let it drop out of sight. When she brought her other hand up to his cheek, he placed his own atop it, then slid it down her arm. He stopped at her elbow, cradling it as she led him forward into their first kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parting, Kalas said, with an air of bafflement, “Kisses are </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggled and threw herself around his torso, where he caught her around the waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Our mouths were closed; it wasn’t like we were using tongue or anything!” At his own words his face twisted. “‘Using tongue’—what am I, twelve?” As he spoke, his hands flexed, catlike, against her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope not,” Xelha quipped. She was torn between kissing him again and exploring his apparent neck sensitivity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided for her, rolling his eyes and muttering, “Shut up.” His lips touched very lightly against hers. Knowing him, he was probably overcompensating for fear of hurting her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips moved a bit, but otherwise it was little more than the prolonged contact of puckered lips. She couldn’t really fault him; it wasn’t as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> had any experience either. Just books she’d read here and there and the ‘wisdom’ her ancestors had shared over the years before she learned to put her foot down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, with her mouth occupied, she instead used her hands to caress his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sensation jarred him from the fumbling kiss. He shivered again, cheek to cheek with her. Not to be left behind, he took a page from her book and kissed where he could reach. The angle of her jaw, just beneath her lobe—they started as uncertain pecks, then blossomed into playful nips at her encouraging hum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In return, Xelha gave a gentle tug on his nape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” he asked, pulling back in response to the perceived request.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than correct him, she gave her fondest smile and dove back into a kiss, emboldened to nibble his lower lip. Getting a firmer grip in his hair, she kissed with as much ardor as she could muster, directionless as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas responded in kind, though his hands were not so restless as hers. He seemed content to hold her as if she would dissolve into water then and there. And when her overcoat was tugged up in the embrace, he was quick to freeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was just as quick to flick open her sash buckle and let it fall away. The overcoat was shrugged off next, exposing the upper half of her jumpsuit. “Better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” he gulped, trying and failing at a cocky smile, “Me too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, he needed her help to crawl out of his breastplate. To lighten the mood—and because she really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to—Xelha played with his belt buckle, index finger tracing the shape under his flushed gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having fun?” asked Kalas, breathiness spoiling his sardonicism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can too, you know,” she teased. In a spark of inspiration, she lifted her hand to his lips until he bit into the nalebound wool at her fingertips. In the end, the angle was poor for drawing her hand out of the glove; she almost struck her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Embarrassed and uncertain, she laughed off the failed attempt at seduction. Would Kalas want to continue? Did she even have any sex appeal? Suddenly the night she’d planned seemed like a bad idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or it did, until Kalas bent to the side and returned with a glove on hand. “Maybe it’s more like this?” With some difficulty, he hooked the cloth where it ended at his knuckle and pulled it off. Though he didn’t come close to hitting himself, it looked quite awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it works with fingerless gloves,” she tittered, taking a turn of her own on her opposite hand. It came off smoothly enough, but she still felt a little silly afterwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show-off.” Sighing in disgust, he suggested, “Should we just take it all off before someone gets poked in the eye?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once nude, they knelt together, at a loss again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now what?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This time Kalas was the one to take initiative. Starting with little nippy kisses, they moved closer and closer until they were as deeply entwined as before. It was when she shifted to get a better angle that she felt a heat between her legs that was not her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Startled, they both glanced down at Kalas’ hardness like it was some strange creature that had crawled into bed with them. In the flickering light, it glistened with precum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha?” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realized that her hand hand drifted lower to ply herself open for him. Flicking her gaze up slyly, she hooked her other arm around his neck and drew herself in, sliding her lower lips against the shaft. At his whine, she sighed in contentment, letting her head sink into the crook of his neck to mouth kisses against his pulse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if…,” he started, hushed, “What if I—I don’t want to hurt you. Again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas, you won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re past that now… you won’t hurt me. You won’t let yourself hurt me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I love you.” It was said pleadingly, as if in prayer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then trust me,” she whispered back. She released her hold on him, instead finding his hand and lacing their fingers together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She poised her hips above him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And sank.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 22/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 7/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. In Which Vengeance Falls From the Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas, alongside the rest of the ‘strike force’—composed of Xelha and her guardians—stood in a semicircle before the world leaders.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Corellia, their gracious hostess, front and center.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ladekahn, bedecked in agate-hemmed silver armor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Barnette, Xelha’s ice-skinned stand-in.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Calbren, who, while still exhausted, was able to stand and walk with only a cane and his own power.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kamroh and Krumly, who would have to do as far as Earth Children representation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rodolfo, who was visibly self-conscious about his prowess relative to his contemporaries.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And Geldoblame, whose makeup was holding up slightly better than it usually did in his torrid homeland.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His friends looked more refreshed than when he left them to visit the Alps. Even so, the wear of their journey showed. Showed in the tension that played across the bridge of Lyude’s nose. Xelha’s steadily cracking mask. And nowhere more than Mizuti’s face, bared to the world now that their mask was only good for adding ornamentation to their sash, one half hanging from each hip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We will only have one chance,” said Barnette, “Are you all prepared to storm Cor Hydrae?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They should have been. Would have been, if not for Melodia and her most annoying trait of all: competence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Send them packing, Valefor!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a surge of synthetic pyreflies, his new aeon took form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valefor’s main body, so to speak, was a bronze birdcage lantern, illuminated by a spectral flame. The lid reminded him of the mask he’d worn in Duhr—birdlike, with its beak set skyward and the ‘candlelight’ flickering through a single eye socket. From opposing corners of the lid and base extended a pair of chains each, ligaments to Valefor’s most striking feature: its wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chains were but a few links between the lantern and the hoops on their other end. Those hoops saw the end of the inorganic; the far side of each was covered in charcoal skin, an extension of the gargantuan bat wings that flared to either side. They were jagged, dramatically so, with wicked hooks on their ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without further command from Kalas, Valefor torpedoed through the swarm of Malperciac fiends, scoring and scorching and scattering the White Dragon’s harriers. In the open air of its wake, she regained her own maneuverability. As she sped onward, she incinerated all in her path with her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, go faster!” Xelha’s voice was strained from desperation. “If Sin gets there first—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The White Dragon rumbled and redoubled her efforts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas wondered if it would even matter, the plan having gone so far awry.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not to be a wet blanket,” Kalas interjected, ignoring the smattering of scornful, under-breath Al Fhard, “but you just said that your ancestors used the power of the End Magnus to raise the islands.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kamroh bobbed his head.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not like we’re going to get the End Magnus back, you know—that ship sailed when Melodia used them for her little art project.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Calbren twitched.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So, we use up the last of that power, then what? Even if we break through, it doesn’t mean a whole lot if the islands fall.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kamroh sighed, a mournful sound he’d already learned to hate over the course of their one and only interaction. “There are measures we can take, but they all require access to Cor Hydrae.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was Rodolfo, of all people, who had the most helpful response. “The force field is </span>
  </em>
  <span>our</span>
  <em>
    <span> concern, boy—mind your own business. You lot are the only ones qualified to storm the keep. The last thing we need is for our mighty saviors to be gumming up the works when they should be slaying a god.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you say so. Just don’t go hitting </span>
  </em>
  <span>us</span>
  <em>
    <span> when you go all laser-happy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The ‘blast the residual energy keeping us from falling to our death’ part of the plan went off without a hitch, at least. Cor Hydrae was exposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shame that Sin showed up, big, stupid mouth agape and making a beeline for the keep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A phalanx of thermophilic fiends rose out of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking nowhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> to run interference, forcing the White Dragon to swerve and choke back her flames. The loss of momentum was another drip in a bucket overflowing with stupid shit getting in their way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><span>A’s vesasb as kez, keath!</span></span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently the White Dragon understood Al Zhani, for she ducked in perfect concert with the Goldoba’s artillery-heavy approach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another crisis averted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another closing in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A seemingly endless wave of Sinspawn launched themselves as a counter to Valefor, until it dissolved into pyreflies to rest. Kalas would have been worried, had it not been the second time that had happened during the siege.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, the real problem was how quickly Valefor’s progress was scabbed over—within seconds it was as if it had never been there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Clear the way, Bahamut!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A ray of intense light shot over their heads to disintegrate the oncoming fiends. When his vision cleared, he caught only the barest glimpse of the aeon—a dark dragon with a wheel on its back?—before the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterbean II</span>
  </em>
  <span> putted along to block the view. The ship performed a wobbly roll in greeting, then hurried after Tik’s shiny new aeon.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’d think they’d get a new ship design</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterbean-there, done that. I guess it’s impressive that they built... that... in such a short time?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can leave these shitstains to us—right, Tik?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sad little ship clunked on after the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He just hoped that the two wouldn’t get themselves killed trying to play hero.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>With me, Odin!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was the other wayward summoner: Odette, astride an eight-legged prancer and clutching the heavily armored figure before her, shot out of Wacho’s ship at breakneck speed. The aeon rapidly spun a spear left and right, slaying its foes with a single flick of the blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas, a word?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas very much did not want a word. But Calbren looked ready to keel over and it </span>
  </em>
  <span>was </span>
  <em>
    <span>probably the fastest way to get him to lay down.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And so he sighed, met the grandfather’s eyes, and said, “I’ll do what I can for her. But it’s not like she was dragged into this kicking and screaming, you know.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Calbren pursed his lips, eyes glossy, and softly said, “That’s all I can ask of you. There’s something I should have done a long time ago… maybe, then, this wouldn’t be happening now….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas didn’t have a response. But he did glance back as they all filed out, and Calbren’s head remained bowed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veer starboard!” snapped Savyna in the wake of the deafening chomp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sin’s teeth loomed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SSSSSSSKREEEEETCH!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Scale on ivory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dizzying reversal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re… alive…,” panted Gibari.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barely,” he grumbled back, “Now what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t made it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cor Hydrae was, in the most literal way possible, within the belly of the beast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having devoured the keep, Sin was content to hover smugly in place and let its spawn handle things. And handle them they did, ramming the dragon without mercy. Even with a fleet of top-of-the-line imperial vessels and a small army of soon-to-be-former pilgrims to do crowd control, Kalas and the others were forced to the fringe of the battlezone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s face went hard. Without her having to say a word, he knew she was going to propose something extreme. Sure enough, she crawled out of her saddle to balance on a spine, wand raised into a summoning stance. Kalas joined her, leg bracing against the spine’s base.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he was getting a sense for Valefor’s status—far from full strength but still technically summonable—the lowing of a skybeast caught his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let us help, Your Majesty!” called Catranne, hopping up from her seat in the tiny skycraft. Her wings were already out and fluttering; like Lyude, she had the hard shell of a beetle, specifically that of a ladybug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s breath caught, then released with a relieved smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At their queen’s approval, Kodelle and Glamyss called out their wings as well, mantis and wasp respectively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glamyss was the first to launch herself into the open air. She hovered with her legs crossed out of the way, arms crossed at the wrists at chest level. Her fingers were flared wide save for her thumbs, which were interlocked. An indigo aura began to emanate from her, which unfurled into a set of glyphs: a great one at her back, a much smaller one encompassing her combined palms, and the smallest a coin just past her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next, Kodelle and Catranne took up positions behind her and to the side, forming a triangle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The former tossed a deck of magnus in the air, which opened to reveal crystals. Dozens of clear quartz tumbled into the spaces between the sisters. Suspended like dewdrops on a silk thread, they picked up Glamyss’ energy, drawing it along the path of the triangle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With all the pieces in place, Catranne evoked their collective magna essence—that of the quartz as well as her sisters’. Each focal point swelled with power, the feedback building and building and building energy until the air itself seemed to distort. At an unseen signal, the two in the back directed all of that energy into the largest glyph.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Kalas had to avert his eyes for what came next, he could feel the surge, hear the blast as it ripped through air and fiend alike. When the light of the attack faded, he looked first to the sisters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worry not about us,” Glamyss cried through heaving breaths, huddling with her sisters on the floor of their craft, “Go, before…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed the trail of her trembling finger to the sea of pyreflies between them and Sin. As they were drawn into Xelha, he was able to see the true proof of the sisters’ power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A steaming hole gaped in Sin’s flank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go!”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Had Sin not been so unusual a creature and time not been so short, Xelha imagined she’d have drowned under the deluge of questions. Mizuti, at least, happily lectured the others during the flight on pyreflies and their connection to the dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why you were so sure that the Library of Magic wasn’t haunted!” exclaimed Lyude, grinning from ear to ear, “If there had been—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—they be off to the Farplane, licketty-split!” Mizuti crowed, striking a goofy pose that nearly had them upending, “Bane of the undead, the Ice Queen be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larikush’s jaw clicked into a grimace. Savyna was much the same, as was Gibari, who quickly picked up on the overall mood. As subtle a glance as she could manage showed Kalas’ downturned head. Only Lyude and Mizuti were able to keep up any kind of cheer, though that was largely the latter’s influence. From the snippets that weren’t lost to the wind, it seemed they were composing a victory ballad on the spot.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once past the organic exterior, Sin’s biology was completely alien to even Larikush. The floor, if it could be called such, was mana—pure, roiling mana, a galaxy of pinks and blues beneath their feet, which were spared from sinking into the depths only by the pyreflies circling them. Save for the fleshy wall at their backs, no other structure was visible past a certain point due to a miasmic fog the color of a distant mountain range.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More immediately, their path forward was lined with evergreen-esque growths, a metalloid treeline of cilia. Though most were rigid, here and there were sections that made unnerving, twitchy movements, like a school of fish reversing course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are those…?” Xelha wondered aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>Is now really the time to be asking that? A koa monkey on market day wouldn’t be so flighty</span>.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. There was a duality to its timbre, as if two voices, male and female, were speaking as one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari danced forward, looking wildly about. He shouted, “Guillo?! You’re alive?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the midst of her and the others’ shock, Xelha caught a glimpse of Lyude starting at his old alias, followed by a flush as he realized his mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>Well, if it isn’t Gibari. Did you make up with the princeling, or is that the only armor you own</span>?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted. “Should’ve been married by now. With the Empire and Sin taking turns crashing the party, we’ve had bigger fish to fry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>Hmph. I suppose you expect </span></b>
  <b>
    <em>me</em>
  </b>
  <b> to lend a hand with the menu. I’ve seen your fish, and they make me glad that it’s been so long since I’ve had opposable thumbs.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Same old Guillo! Well, except for… you know.” He made a vague gesture with his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>I have hit a growth spurt, haven’t I? It must be all the loudmouthed brats I’ve been eating lately. Speaking of which, where are Sagi and Milliarde? Their whelp needs to be bent over a knee.</span></b>
</p><p>
  <span>As one, the party’s breath caught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo let out something between a sigh and a grunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It happened a long time ago,” said Kalas solemnly, a ghost creeping into his visage, “There was a plague. Afterwards, Melodia was raised by her grandfather.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>What?!</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>At the fayth’s angered shout, the stability of the surface momentarily wavered.</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>Which one dared live, the fool or the megalomaniac?</span>!</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Verus or Baelheit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Xelha realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aloud she cried, “Lord Sagi and Lady Milliarde were taken in by Duke Calbren, who claimed Melodia as his granddaughter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo seemed mollified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyways,” Gibari cut in with an uneasy laugh, “I don’t know how much you get to know current events, but we need to take down Sin for good. Now that we know you’re here, I bet your magic could tear it apart from the inside!”</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>What a brilliant idea! If only</span></b>
  <b>
    <em> I’d</em>
  </b>
  <b> thought of that, these past years. Now I just feel silly for letting the Dark Brethren have their way with me.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari winced. “Well, I didn’t mean it like—wait, ‘Dark Brethren’? Do you mean the sinspawn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha~ah?” exclaimed the resident Earth Child, bounding over, “The Great Mizuti sang about them, doesn’t Gibari remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari, it seemed, did not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Dark Brethren be wish-granters at a price most terrible—horrible, unspeakable! Malpercio be the darkest of the Brethren!”</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>The pipsqueak is half right; Malpercio—the real Malpercio—were good people who made a very stupid decision</span>.</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A war between gods… it doesn’t seem possible in this age. But that was reality for our ancestors. Powers beyond our understanding, clashing endlessly without gaining any ground…. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was all too easy to see how desperation would drive the well-meaning to a terrible fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They sold their souls.” The words were barely a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo said nothing for a time. Nevertheless, she was certain that they had heard her and, moreover, felt that same sorrow for a life appropriated.</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>As the Final Aeon, I’ve done what I can to make Sin’s body navigable. You all will have to destroy Malpercio’s fayth on your own: Seph he Yaze, Pieda le Monarna, Thoran che Ladra, Ven bo Norco, and Marno ar Monarno</span>.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>While the others breathed a sigh of relief for, at long last, having a definitive solution, Savyna padded forward to join Gibari at the head. “When Sin is destroyed, you’ll die too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a statement, not a question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Guillo said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t seriously be looking to die!” Gibari almost sounded more angry than grieved. “You know how many people missed you?! Hell, Tik and Wacho are out there right now keeping fiends off our tails!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude, too, was passionate in his denial. “Almarde always spoke so kindly of you; I can’t imagine she would not take heart in meeting you again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <b><span>I chose to die in Milliarde’s place, and living this hell hasn’t changed my mind. If my chance to revenge myself upon the Brethren is squandered by a gaggle of sentimental louts, I will slaughter you myself!</span></b>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Guillo seemed to have their fill of speaking. Pyreflies, splitting off from the wall, gathered within their midst, milling about ‘til they had everyone’s full attention. Then they broke into three branches, which could only be paths to the fayth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five fayth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three paths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Little time.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Once Kalas and his group—Papa, Lyude, and Mizuti—began down their chosen path, the bulk of the pyreflies skimmed forward across the mana. The resulting trail was less a bridge than a star chart. Their feet against the lines of the constellation made sounds akin to that of drumming one’s fingers atop gelatin. He found he didn’t mind the noise, though Papa gagged a bit when a particularly heavy step landed squelchily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though they had been provided with built-in directions, Kalas thought he’d’ve been able to find the fayth anyway. With each step, he could feel the presence of Malpercio—or was it the Dark Brethren?—demanding he forego his sense of self.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha can probably feel it too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In any case, it wasn’t long before they reached the fayth. It seemed that when Guillo said they had ‘done what [they could]’, it meant they had rearranged Sin’s internal organs, or what passed as such. There was a distortion where two thickets joined, as if the seam of two distant regions stitched together. The result was a wide ‘room’ housing a pair of boulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike most fayth, very little of their original human bodies were obscured; what parts were appeared to be deliberately so, like shackles or medical restraints. As for what could be seen….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ar and Le, I presume,” said Papa, eyes lingering on the missing limbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strange to see Malpercio as human. Pieda and Marno—the only siblings related by blood, if their shared surname meant anything—had skin of a cool rose to match their long, cool-hued hair, a rich teal and cornflower respectively. Both were lithe with feminine figures, though only Pieda was a woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas took a steadying breath, then, sword in hand, waved the others back a pace. As he slid off his shoes, the better to sense the flow of mana, he quipped, “Hope I still remember how it’s done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was joking, of course. In the bare handful of private moments he’d had since Xelha confessed—mostly waiting on signals or while his friends relieved themselves—he’d practiced the forms. If he messed up anywhere, it’d be in misjudging the difference in balance between his old swordstaff and an actual sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting the tip fall to scrape the floor, Kalas took three rhythmic steps forward. On the third, he let the motion carry into the tap of his toe opposite of his sword, which he swung diagonally up in the same motion that he slid his foot around and back to its match. At the apex of the swing, he twirled it, backhanded, over the path it had just cut, turning with it until he faced back where he started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, he stilled the blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reversing his grip, he drew it up his body, cupping the point when it parallelled his navel. He pivoted the blade to a horizontal position and made it follow as he bent backwards, down, undulated back up. Seeing the fayth begin to glow, he livened up his dance with kicks and twirls, his sword spinning forward, backward, tossing, catching, figure eight, trading hands, again, again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again…</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Chronaja Blow!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti’s spell whizzed over his head. It punched back a ghostly image of Marno, who’d been about to cleave Kalas in two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Windaja Blow!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pieda’s riposte swept up all of them except for Kalas himself, who was more than used to navigating such spells. Weaving through the powerful storm, he launched himself at Pieda’s shade.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CLANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite being transparent, Marno’s katana was more than able to intercept the blow. In fact, his sister, it seemed, was so confident in his abilities that she didn’t even bother retreating. She merely reached skyward, a pillar of bright light shooting from her hands. Based on the ruckus in his blind spot, the resulting attack was devastating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas swung a few more times, each blocked with a skillful flick of the blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few such exchanges, Marno asserted himself, steering Kalas backwards into the tree-structures. Their eyes met over Kalas’ quaking guard. A balaclava hid the bottom half of his face, but those eyes screamed with malaise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marno nodded slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And sprang away in time to avoid a chakram to the ear. It thudded into a nearby branch, slicing it clean off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude and Papa provided cover fire for Kalas to disengage completely. Dagger dropping from magnus to his hand, he bounded back to Pieda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time she dodged, no less nimble than Marno, and planted her heel into his gut. He stumbled back, gasping, and ate spellcraft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell to his knees, dry heaving. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lyude crumple backwards, his splattered blood a pinion. The culprit ignored him in favor of bearing down on Kalas, blade raised and dancing with divine light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any attempt to move sent shockwaves of vertigo through his system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>With me now, Mizuti!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His grandpapa’s voice sounded strange to his addled mind. Like it was echoing down a paper tube.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marno ignored them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A golden mist swirled around his blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swung.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Her wand articulating in the background of her consciousness, Xelha took in the bodies fused with the stela. Or rather, the lack thereof, as ‘Bo’ and ‘Che’ were missing half a torso each, if the lay of their clothes was any indication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoran che Ladra was a handsome, muscular man with far too many features in common with Lyude for her comfort. Skin tone, hair color, and, most of all, a kindness that showed even through the torment etched into his face. Had she any doubts that Guillo’s assessment of Malpercio’s character was true, that kindness alone would have dispelled them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, if Thoran’s mien alone was not enough, Ven bo Norco’s could have convinced her without any outside help. Even with ornaments as fearsome as tusks framing his head, he could not have been less intimidating. His face was gentle, youthful, sweet. She shuddered to think how old he must have been one thousand years ago. How old he must have been for the war that sundered the very earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As her beckoning dance concluded, incorporeal versions of the fayth stepped out from the slabs, their bodies as complete as they doubtless remembered them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ven’s brow was crumpled in despair. Brushing his eyes, he sobbed, “Thoran, do we really have to? I—I—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brother embraced him, only for their bodies to phase through each other. His fists clenched. “Blast it all, that’s how it’s got to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sobs became wails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ven bo Norco,” Xelha called softly, though it didn’t stop him from startling at his name, “I’m sorry… this is all I—</span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>—can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This could be our only chance,” agreed Thoran, settling into a casting stance, “The Dark Brethren—it’s all we can do not to go all out, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari swung his spear into position. “Don’t sweat it. We can take whatever you dish out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna took her place in front of Xelha, claws at the ready. “We’ll make it quick. As painless as possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still Ven resisted joining the confrontation. An unseen force had to jerk his arms from his face and puppet him forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari met him halfway, barely able to slow the deceptively strong boy. As he was pushed back, Xelha was forced to dance out of their path, Savyna choosing to dodge upwards into a side flip. Upon touching back down, she used the opportunity to gash Ven hip to shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FSSSSS!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With Xelha’s nimble casting, the jet of flames that would have hit friends was not only doused but overshadowed by a bombardment of hail. The stones struck Thoran’s wrists, neck, gut—anywhere that might make him think twice about challenging the Witch Queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somersaulting away from his well-matched opponents, Ven scrambled to his brother’s side and locked arms with him. Back to back with their hands jointly forming a focal point, the power that had made them be known as gods built up devastatingly fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha barely had time to vocalize a warning—no, the start of a warning—before her every sense crackled with heat.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stopza!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” cried Mizuti and Papa in unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And stop Marno did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That won’t hold them for long,” said Papa as the light of healing magicks fizzled into nothingness. Helping Lyude sit up, he asked him, “Were you able to determine any exploitable weaknesses?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and adjusted his scope. “They seem to draw power from the same elements as the island they were interred on. Ar—that is, Marno—is also lacking as far as magical talent is concerned, even by modern standards.” He sounded pained and out of breath, even after getting motherhenned by the biggest mother hen white magedom had to offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s probably the one we should start with then.” Kalas picked himself off the ground, displeased that he wasn’t moving faster. “I don’t like our odds with letting a black mage do as she pleases, but he’s just going to make a nuisance of himself if we don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful, Kalas,” was Papa’s only reply, prepping shields against Pieda, who was already shaking off the effects of the spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Sword of the Heavens closed the distance between them, the sibling god and Kalas. Though battle was resuming behind him in a cacophony of thunder and bullets and stone, Marno was still. Still in a way that belied the battlefield he rested on. That belied the metal sneaking up from under his ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then pupils flicked down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As did their breath, Kalas had sunk his blade in so deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without moving his head, Marno dropped his gaze further, coolly examining the entry point. When raised once more, it settled on the bridge of Kalas’ nose. He flinched away from the hand that came with it, only for his hair to be gently ruffled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The balaclava was stretched by a faint smile underneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do me a favor and give them hell,” said Marno. The words lingered even as he burst into pyreflies and was no more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marno!” cried Pieda, stricken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas swivelled into a sprint—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—only to witness the final moments of Pieda le Monarno, braids whipping with the force of her despair, as Mizuti opened a dimensional fissure below her, from which a torrent of… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> came forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a mass of green fumes, like smoke from a censer. If he looked closely enough, the play of the particulates made individual faces appear and disperse almost in the same moment. As the spell continued, the illusion occurred with greater frequency, until it seemed that the whole of it was a mass of writhing skeletons. They soundlessly shrieked as they were sucked through her body to vanish into a second gate above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the fissures closed, Pieda was barely an imprint of features on the endless gray behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My brothers…!” she choked. A bare few pyreflies remained to meander back to the Farplane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were left alone with a pair of slabs rife with flesh, which, before their very eyes, petrified.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Xelha hadn’t been laid low in such a manner since the Holoholo Jungle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If this is them holding back…!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her bad shoulder was ice. Her skin was burning. She dared not open her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I don’t want to!” Ven was weeping even as he limped nearer.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SQUISH-THUD!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The unmistakable sound of a dragoon hitting their mark confirmed that Gibari was alive, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoran noisily choked back a sob.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gibari won’t be able to win on his own!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t move. Or at least it didn’t feel like she could; a sensation like pins and needles was spread throughout the whole of her musculature. But though her body wasn’t interested in obeying, the same could not be said of her core.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She called upon the pyreflies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When her body was fully upright—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—she awoke from her swoon with a hard gasp. Eyes shot open. Uncomprehending of what they took in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoran. Gibari.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all of her concentration to raise her right arm. Flick her wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spell hit wide. Flakes instead of ice. Most of it missed—or was it just her vision, popping and swimming and pounding—no, that was her head. Arm?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arm arm arm arm arm arm arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Water. No. Potion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She choked. It sopped over her clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her arm was….</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Savyna was...arguing? With Gibari. Her ventriloquism could use work—she could throw her voice just fine but her mouth was clearly moving, even if it was out of sync.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arm….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was… tired….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closed eyes. Stuff was moving too fast. It made her nauseous.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The path continued past Marno and Pieda’s final resting place. As if his earlier likening of their surroundings to pine woods was a challenge, the further they progressed, the taller and denser those woods became. Soon there were structures so large as to make the earlier ‘trees’ look like knucklebones jacks. In the pyreflies’ dim light, the branches were highlighted so as to resemble lightning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the woods’ growing mass began blocking out more and more of Sin’s uncanny internal light, the pyreflies underfoot thickened to compensate. But it was hardly necessary once they heard Gibari’s bellows. They sped along, planning what to do in terse, sparse words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude was the first to branch off when multicolored flashes pierced through the mists. In a single bound, he was well on his way to climbing one of the taller pseudo-trees. Though he was soon out of sight, Kalas knew he would be safely overlooking the battlefield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti, in the lead, gasped and grasped Papa’s wrist, whereupon they launched him rightward into what passed for the sky. His wings, materializing into a beat, carried him out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>FLY!</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo’s twin voices echoed around them again, not from some nebulous limen, but the makeshift battlefield just past a bend. Their view, once they were close enough that the mist couldn’t keep them from it, was still blocked, this time by an especially large and gnarled barricade.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>FLAIL!</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>A series of flashes accompanied by explosions and fearful yells.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>AND SLAUGHTER!</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>The shockwave knocked them both flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling to his feet, Kalas wingdashed to the scene. And then was forced to bend his flight at an awkward angle to avoid losing his head to a razor-sharp disk of ice. He couldn’t relax though—</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>CLOUD!</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>—a glacier was sliding along after it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desperate, Kalas flew straight up, as fast as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span>LOOK TO THE SKIES!</span></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>And look he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blazingly blue comet clipped him mid flight, and that was enough to send him tumbling into the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THNKLANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas rolled out from the safety of Gibari’s spear. He had blocked an attack from a green-clothed blond who could only be Seph he Yaze, based upon the fayth stone visible through his torso. He was wielding a longbow like a quarterstaff. The outer arch was adorned with fangs, within which the spear was caught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, excellent,” the leader of Malpercio said in his sing-song voice, earnestly, urgently, “It’s as Melodia told you before: your power rivals a god, but only when it’s in sync.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari grunted, “Appreciate the tip.” Faster than a blink, he’d performed the dragoon’s signature move, dragging Seph into the air with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For an instant, Kalas was tempted to fly up to make sure his friend would be okay. But, to his surprise, he felt… secure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari could and </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> handle it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he spun and pranced around the nigh-unavoidable array of spells and curses to lend his aid in fighting the bigger threat: Guillo and their mastery of ancient magicks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the time it took for him to clear the no-man’s-land between the edge of the ‘forest’ and noodle sage themself, he’d been hit enough times to wear through multiple layers of protective spells courtesy of his grandpapa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude, who, thanks to the distraction provided by those in the crossfire, didn’t need to abandon his vantage point for safer ground, helped by shooting Guillo’s projectiles out of the sky. He obviously couldn’t negate every attack—some lacked a physical presence, others were simply too numerous for one man to realistically counteract—but his interference broke the rhythm of Guillo’s icy carnival.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari had touched down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blurs of pink and blue swooped past. Xelha and Mizuti, going to aid in the fight against Seph.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ahead, Savyna was sliding from one stance into the next, so smoothly as to belie distinction between each of her bunnycat-quick strikes. Where Guillo lacked her speed, they made up with implausible bodily contortions, though the hits she did land appeared devastating.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I guess godcraft only needed to take as much punishment as a god’s death throes can dole out.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He took to the air and circled.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Papa already has his hands full with healing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, idly skirting past a stray bolt of magic, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Those three are busy with Seph. Savyna’s holding down Guillo and they’re both too fast for me. And Lyude would be a sitting duck down here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Even for a martial arts master like Savyna, the constant movement was unsustainable. Already she was slowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when Lyude shot him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the newfound agility of his alchemized muscles, he divebombed the two fighting below, able to weave through their attacks with ease. Between him and Savyna, Guillo was crumpling faster than a card tower in a hurricane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, until the alchemy wore off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillo grabbed them both by the scruff. However, instead of mouthing off like before, the godcraft was silent. Their arms pulsed like a hose being fed water, then expanded. The growing energy field locked Kalas’ muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>WHOOSH-CRACK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A mass of darkness dropkicked Guillo, forcing them to release their captives and slump to the ground. Before they could recover, Kalas, Savyna, and the dark figure struck in unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glow of their red eyes flickered under their headscarf. “Time… for a rest…,” they gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It flickered one final time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please do, Guillo,” the newcomer prayed, darkness slipping away to reveal Lyude, “You will not be forgotten again. I give my word.” He bowed to the twice-fallen hero.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one who had finally gotten her revenge, Savyna looked disinterested. The only indication that she was bothered by the turn of events was a sharp, subtle glance and a tightened fist. Her voice was equally tight when she reminded them, “It’s not over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Kalas groaned playfully, swatting the air in her general direction, “One down, one to go.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Thank you!” Xelha choked through the lingering pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above her, Larikush’s jaw looked ready to snap. But then his eyes flicked in the direction of the battle and, without further acknowledgement, he began tersely slinging white magic left and right, clutching a high grade ether in the hand opposite his staff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A single glance made his reasons apparent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much like Thoran and Ven before them, Seph he Yaze and the godcraft known as Guillo were fighting together, not that either particularly needed the other’s help. The speed and grace with which Seph fired off arrows easily kept Gibari both at a distance and out of the air. As for Guillo, it took all Savyna could do to keep their attention off her comrades, if the decided limp to her movements was any indication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was about to help Savyna when the familiar </span>
  <em>
    <span>schwing-ting!</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Lyude’s sound shock gun pierced the air and Guillo’s shoulder. With reinforcements on the way to handle the godcraft, it made more sense for her to take care of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aquaja Burst!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A geyser of superheated water tore around Seph, who merely split the stream as one would a crowd. But even his mastery of spellcraft couldn’t mitigate her bombardment in its entirety; the strain of holding back the waters rolled down his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could see his head tick toward Gibari, who was taking the moment she’d afforded him to recover. With a final push, Seph cast her mana to the winds and gathered his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Firaja Burst!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was aimed to finish off his original opponent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so fast!” she snapped, converting the Sinflesh beneath her to pyreflies and firing them through the center of the flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As hers before, his spell was dashed by the clashing magicks. He was quick to counter—!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—but so was she.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Magic ripped through the space between them. Their casting was so furious, Xelha could scarcely pause to think, and she could tell it was the same for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ice met fire in a cloud of steam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spiderweb of light crackled through roiling shadow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glorious sun held above her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answering spear of darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glacier blasted to pieces, refracting the glow of other magicks already taking its place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A torrent of azure fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The strongest gales her homeland had to offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back and forth, back and forth, ‘til she could almost forget what was at stake, so caught up in the exhilaration—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CRCHKT!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She reacted on instinct to the ice surging behind her. But the brief pause allowed Seph to unleash a shockwave around himself, knocking them back. No—it knocked Xelha back, leaving Gibari to fend for himself. And before she could jump to his rescue, Guillo was casting another frightfully powerful spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing just once to ensure that her comrade would be fine, Xelha rolled like a seal midair and zipped through the newest onslaught. Rather than hang back as she had with Seph, she opted for a surprise attack—namely, that the attack would not be magical in nature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wand held out in front of her, she dive-bombed the puppet, knocking them to the ground in a jumble of limbs. She righted herself to joust again, only to be forced to twist out of the way as Guillo landed on all fours, malignant spirits wailing as the godcraft channeled them through a glyph.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari was atop Seph, but the latter wasn’t nearly as cornered as he appeared; with his bow having been snapped by the impact of their landing, he’d gained a very sharp knife of the perfect size and shape to slip through the knight’s armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a snap of her wings, Xelha had changed direction, hurtling into a range where she would have greater precision with her spells. Mizuti joined her, aura bleeding with the energies of Chronos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as the makeshift blade began to plunge, Mizuti struck, the concentrated flow of time aging the wood to dust in his grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Undeterred, Seph heated Gibari’s breastplate ‘til its surface began to glow red and warp. Gibari pranced back but, being without gloves, was unable to remove it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha solved the problem with a handy dousing of water. Weariness catching up with her—as well as the knowledge the final battle was one that only she could win—she alighted next to him and watched as Mizuti made Seph’s years implode in on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, tried to speak, and faded away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the last inch of Seph he Yaze’s body turned to stone, the scenery that Guillo had so carefully stitched together ruptured at the seams. Sinflesh bursting into pyreflies, fog scattering as winds made their way inside—soon Cor Hydrae was revealed in its full glory against a backdrop of blue sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue sky and purple Taintclouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re sinking,” was Savyna’s sardonic observation. She, Kalas, and Lyude joined them on one of the few patches that hadn’t yet been completely eaten away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The islands too,” Xelha replied, “Too quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a millennium of sacrifice, was it all to be for naught?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skyfolk and Earth Children alike were scrambling against the inevitable, though there was little they could have done to slow the landmasses, even had Cor Hydrae’s forces been routed. The defeat of Sin and the subsequent dissolution of its spawn had balanced the scale more favorably but fiends continued to harangue the human armies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Al Fhard airships showed off the true efficacy of their phalanx maneuver, plowing through any foes that dared to flank the low-mobility Diademi fleet. Others, like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldoba</span>
  </em>
  <span> and smaller vessels, engaged platoons of scythe-wielding Brethren in flashy dogfights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Diadem’s knights held the line admirably, it was her legendary dragoons that pushed it forward. Using their ships—and, indeed, any others their feet happened to land on—as springboards, they were able to turn the overwhelming numbers of the enemy to their advantage, skewering fiends by the dozen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Chocobo Knights of Mira were little more than smears of black with a glittering tail when they weren’t pausing, changing course, or dropping off Anuenuans. Corellia’s forces, largely consisting of red mages and paladins, went wherever the fighting was thickest to offer healing and support. Every so often, the riders would flock to escort the Sadali infirmary ships.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only Xelha’s own people and the Earth Children who were absent from the battlefield. They had been tasked with slowing the descent of the islands. And it seemed they had the greatest support one could ask for, as the gentle, bolstering song of the greythornes was resonating with enough power that she could feel it even at a distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re ready too, aren’t you, O Great One?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She imagined she felt a tickle of approval from her tiniest compatriots. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just wait a little while longer… one way or another, our exile ends today.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As one, she and her friends turned their backs to the greatest conflict since the War of the Gods and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sprang</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>True to its master’s name, the keep was dark. So dark, in fact, that they dared not risk creating a lightsource of their own, lest they be doubly blinded. And so, while their eyes adjusted, the first humans to enter the interdimensional palace in one thousand years were left to soak it in in other ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The few steps they took past the threshold made the distinctive click of tile. When Kalas squatted to touch, he could feel the intricacy of the mosaic. The tiles didn’t feel like any material he recognized; rounded without signs of wear and with the give of an aging carrot, he guessed that it was from a world besides their own. When he withdrew his hand, it came away clean, without the slightest speck of dust or dirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s some cleaning service they use</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wanted to joke, but even their footsteps felt profane in the silence of the keep. He could just imagine what Melodia would say if she could hear him think. She would probably laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air itself had a texture—’spongy’ was the best way he could think to describe it. It was shockingly warm and moist, for all that it had the atmosphere of a crypt. Some patches were outright hot for no reason he could tell. Like a geyser. Or a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, the air smelled like neither, nor was it stale. It reminded him of the incense sometimes used at the Endmost Bethel: sweetly bitter with a hint of musk. Trying to identify it, Kalas inhaled himself to a state of lightheadedness. When he then had to gasp his breathing back to normal, it tasted like a campfire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As their eyes adjusted, it became clear that torches wouldn’t be necessary, as there was already quite a bit of light. The small, green radiance dotted the walls in similar patterns to the bioluminescent skybeasts favored in Miran airspace. They led to pillars with clusters of glowing, eye-like ornaments. Soon enough, the room was visible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cor Hydrae opened into a round foyer. The tilework he’d felt before formed a breathtakingly gorgeous mandala in the center of the chamber. There were a few archways past which were gloom and the same sparse light. As near as he could see, the walls, floor, and ceiling were varying shades of maroon and brick and blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart panged at the reminder.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This better be worth it, Calbren. After everything she’s done—!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Truth be told, he couldn’t muster any real heat—if anything, his resentment was more aimed at himself, at how conflicted he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia had made him a killer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia had given him a friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d led him down a dark path, but it was one he chose for himself. She’d manipulated him, but he’d been just as bad as her. He’d been so ready to take vengeance on everything he knew and loved, destroy the world if it meant ending his pain as well. Was Melodia the same? Or was he just making excuses for her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe, just maybe, his actions could be blamed on the End Magnus that had influenced his birth. Maybe the same could be said of a girl who lived atop an End Magnus. Maybe she was like Giacomo’s grandmother, who’d been tainted in the Lava Caves….</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As if it would be that easy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He should hate her. But he didn’t. He missed her. Her wit. Her encouragement. For all that ‘brethren’ had taken on connotations he’d rather avoid, it was the truest label he could apply to the relationship between himself and Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to save her just because her grandfather asked it of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas wanted to bring his dumb little sister home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the—?!” gasped Gibari from his place as vanguard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, weapons were drawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sidling over to get a Gibari-free view, he paused, vaguely recognizing the Throneroom of the Gods. However, unlike in his white-winged days, all six thrones were occupied: Melodia sat primly on the highest, while the five below held the slumped forms of the five siblings. Though their bodies were now opaque, save for the parts surrendered to the islands and later Malpercio, they bled pyreflies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome~♥~”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Speaking of my dumb little sis….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“We failed?” Papa murmured, stroking his beard, “But the stones….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They can’t rest,” Kalas realized, “They’re still bound to him. To Malpercio.” Like he himself was. He’d been distracted by his thoughts as they’d walked but now, at the epicenter of their domain, the will of the Dark Brethren was a constant, crushing pressure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s not very nice,” simpered Melodia. Pinions bursting into sight, she rose straight up, the better to stare down her nose at them. “Not even a ‘how are you’, Kalas? I see you lost more than your wings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared back at her. She was powerful, self-assured—everything he’d wanted to be. Everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> had wanted to be, together. “Hey, Mels. We’re here to bring you home, if you’re ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of the others protested, for which he was grateful; in fact, they had shifted to give the two of them space to talk. Once the world-saving was squared away, he’d have to do something to make up for all he’d put them through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home?” She fell into a giggling fit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malpercio dropped into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, she continued, “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> funny. But all jokes have a punchline, and I’d say it’s about time we find yours.” She raised her arm to command her god. “Fear not, sweet Kalas; the Farplane will be far from lonely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malpercio gathered power in his fist—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia, please, let’s end this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—when Duke Calbren made his entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In seconds Melodia was on the ground, wings banished. “Grandfather, what are you doing here? You’re ill, Milord—weak and sickly as I once was!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t wrong about that at least; Calbren’s skin was waxen, wings near stripped bear, and eyes unfocused and feverish. Nevertheless, he hobbled forward, rasping, “There’s something I can no longer hide from you, Melodia… the truth about ten years ag—” He broke off into wet, hacking coughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grandfath—!” Mid word and step she jerked to a halt for no reason he could confidently guess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waving back offers of support, Calbren managed to say, “I couldn’t bare to… be alone in that big house….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pieces clicked distressingly into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was desperate—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—and had access to an End Magnus.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“—surely, between the three of you, it would take root—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—Sagi, a maledeiter; his biological daughter; and Milliarde, who carried her. All three were tainted, Melodia was just the most vulnerable…!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“—I had no idea what it would take from you….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Calbren, Lyude, the outbreaks—she was never cured! The power of the Dark Brethren has kept her in stasis—she’s a walking incubator of Heartwaste!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia seemed to come to the same conclusion. She stumbled back, a tangle of emotions. “I died? Ten years ago?!” Her eyes flicked from Calbren to Lyude and back again. “Stricken as mother and father were…. Then I am but….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia, please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She mouthed the words ‘a shadow’ and turned away. Under her breath, she continued, “I belong to darkness… just like Malpercio….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she was no longer listening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What—what a joke!” The words were between a sob and a giggle. “Robbed of my life, robbed of my peace… in the end, even my atonement was a scheme of the gods?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her wings crept back out, the damage to them clear at his proximity; whether by the corrosive influence of Malpercio—of the Dark Brethren—or heartwaste itself, the copper wire had deepened in color at the joints, hints of seafoam spreading down the length as if lichen. The feathers, though—they remained as clean and bright as ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or they did, up until she leapt into Malpercio’s embrace, where a black smog gushed out from his chest and enveloped both. When it cleared, Melodia was gone, and the god’s flesh was whole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where once there was exposed bone, hearty muscle had grown. His innards had, at long last, actually deigned to be as their name suggested. The fleshy cocoons that passed for arms had peeled open to reveal functional limbs. White wings—beautiful white wings—crowned his skull. Gone was the hulking beast with its maggot-esque appendages; Malpercio stood tall and stern, the utter wrongness of his presence offset by his exuding divinity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before any other wrenches could worm their way into the cogs, Kalas scooped Calbren into his arms and all but threw him at his own grandfather, who held him back from pursuit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He took her into his being!” he snapped, risking a glance at the enthroned ‘gods’. He’d seen right: they were stirring. “I can’t do anything about it if I have to worry about you too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The five siblings were awake and staring with glowing blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malpercio’s light gathered to smite his enemies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And inside Kalas, something stirred.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why is Valefor—?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t Valefor. It felt different… stronger, yet gentler. Familiar. Something that had made its home inside so long ago he’d forgotten that it wasn’t always there. A golden meadow with a woodsy breeze….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory was soon overtaken by the very real scent of a flower, earthy and sweet. Time seemed to slow as he realized that it was coming from himself. More specifically, from his clenched left hand. The perfume spilled out, heady, when his fingers unfurled, revealing a tight pink bud. Before his eyes, the outer layer peeled away, revealing itself to be a lotus.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But where—how—what—?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very center was what appeared to be a large white pearl ‘til it stirred. It was hair, which funneled upward and grew in size, a bare male figure becoming visible beneath. When he reached his full size—taller even than Ladekahn and delicate of frame—he halted his spin with all four limbs spread wide, locks whipping from the unspent momentum and white robes bursting into existence. Glowing in pulses, both fluttered down lightly on gravity’s command.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his back to Kalas, all that could initially be seen was the billowing, petal-thin cloth. The sleeves, which continued well over a hand’s length past his fingers, were also flower-like in the ridging at their hems, which was echoed in the equally overlong train. Longer still was the tail of a pink waist sash keeping the robe in place. A hood obscured the head but he could see that the hair underneath extended just past the sash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The strange aeon turned at the hip to better face him. The breast was split by a deep v-neck with a golden brocade border. It was bridged by four pairs of coin-sized, gold shank buttons and the taut red cords joining them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was the face more than anything that had Kalas drawing a silent breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Fee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hair was too pale, the skin had darkened to match their grandpapa, he’d gained bullnose and snakebite piercings, and his face and body possessed the same agelessness as Corellia, but it was unmistakably his little brother. The pointed ears, his blue eyes, and especially the symbol on his forehead were dead giveaways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“F-Fee…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile alone was proof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an aeon,” whispered Kalas, “But your body… it was never—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fee tapped his own lips. When Kalas fell silent, he reached out and tapped his brother’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re like Shiva.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, then pointed to Kalas again whilst playing with his hair above his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m Melodia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does that mean that Sin killed me two years ago? And when Fee used his Magnus of Life to save me….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What should I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fee gave a mysterious, otherworldly smile. Or rather, he tried to, almost immediately devolving into voiceless giggles and a shit-eating grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas rolled his eyes and muttered, “No, stop, that’s too many details.” At Fee’s reaction, he continued, louder, “And you’re the one controlling whatever this is, so you can quit tapping your wrist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still giggling when, in a flash of light, time returned to normal and Malpercio’s attack glanced off of the barrier he posed. His work done for the moment, he returned to Kalas’ heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone!” Kalas called as he readied himself to spring, “Get ready to party!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d hardly finished his sentence before Mizuti went in for a rematch. Beams of concentrated mana clashed and wavered, spat and hissed. From the start, it was clear that a fourteen-year-old, no matter how talented, wasn’t a match for the victor of the most devastating war ever recorded; he was sure that had it been anyone else taking the brunt of the attack, they would’ve been incinerated. Whether or not they would be able to hold up as before against the newly empowered god he had no intention of finding out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna had the same idea, sliding under the action to claw up Malpercio’s giant ankles. Even as he himself slashed an arm lengthwise, his legs cringed in sympathy pain at the sight of fraying tendon. Her strikes were efficient—the sweep of claw as she spun away from a stomp, kicking off the thighs for the height to slam both feet into the back of the knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CR~RACK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the audibly fractured bone, Malpercio retained his footing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not so much when Gibari, coating himself in the waters of his homeland, added his own spin to the assault. Rather than using the trident head, the paddle portion of his spear connected with the injured calf. Before the water could dissipate, Xelha froze it in place. The result was as a ballista shackling the two legs together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malpercio roared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Press the advantage!” Savyna cried, but it was too late—they were forced to scatter as his loss of balance sent the beam wide, knocking out three walls and half of the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Levzet, bythz oth Xelha osl A…!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><span>DTEZUVZOBO KORR!</span></span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices of his Lyude and his grandpapa cut through the noisy crumbling. Channeling his magic through Lyude’s alchemical conduit, the spell was doubled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zku thduul kazk kkavk Malpercio kuorth…! A les’z veslesu kath tukatzk, kyz oth o levzet az’th ktuozkzovasb ze kazsuthth</span>,” said Papa, stroking his beard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just as long as you don’t go dissecting it in front of us, Doc,” Gibari laughed. As the first boulder-sized fragments hit the barrier, he became serious again. “So, any idea how we can outpace this healing of his?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if to punctuate the question, creaking followed by a loud snap sounded from Malpercio’s direction. A glance revealed that the rod of ice had been broken and forced out by the regrowing leg muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Sez ufus zku belth en erl kutu okru ze nabytu zkoz eyz</span>,” Lyude replied, half—or more—to himself. Despite his words, his grip tightened around his gun and he stared determinedly, even angrily, at the Wicked God.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just past him, Mizuti’s face was crinkled with affront. “Leave it to the Great Mizuti! I be—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—invincible?” suggested Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—indomitable?” Lyude offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—the hero?” Xelha guessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pouted at the interruption. “...all these things and more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude shot them a grateful smile before being pulled aside by Gibari and Savyna. From their gestures, it seemed they were planning something with his alchemy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have long before the spell fails.” Papa’s face was lined with weariness and he was suddenly reminded of just how very old the man was. How taxing the journey must have been for his features to be so waxy and deeply set.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for the first time, Kalas wished he had an ounce of charisma in him. Maybe then he’d know what to say instead of averting his eyes. As he did so, he noticed that Calbren had been drawn into whatever the others were talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fishing for weaknesses maybe? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“A full offensive.” It was Xelha who spoke. Her nostrils flared but otherwise her face was calm. “It’s risky but I don’t think we can afford to have anyone hanging back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Papa replied, “Hm… yes, I suppose I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.” Rather than charge his staff with mana however, he adjusted it into its rifle form. And just in time: the debris punched through the second shield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again they scattered, this time to keep from being crushed under the last pieces to fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malpercio, fully recovered, summoned a sword of his own, though it was more a bent slab of metal with a handle. When he swung, the arc was slow but crushing. More than that, it seemed to cut deeper than merely air; the blur of the motion was a tear through which could be seen… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kalas darted to perch atop a spire of rubble, his eyes got caught on that </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Another dimension?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wondered, completely transfixed on alien vision. It was definable only by what it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>—not light, not dark, not human, not fae… it was a relief when the edges collapsed back in on themselves, sealing perfectly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, not perfectly—there was a slight distortion, like the bunching at a bungled seam. He knew, just by looking, that it was scar tissue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another heavy swing. And another and another. A wide horizontal arc, almost a full rotation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looping to evade, Kalas made for a spire, all that remained of one of the thrones. If the problem was getting in close….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s go, Valefor!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a rush of petals, the aeon flew out of his body to tackle Malpercio, hooks sinking in to keep the arms pinned. The god roared and switched to kicking and stomping at the attackers on the ground. But Gibari jumped and Savyna was too nimble, and so he returned to struggling against Valefor, bashing the lantern into the last remaining wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within an alcove of rubble, Papa was steadily working his way through his entire supply of exploding shells and elemental bullets. One particularly potent chronos charge punched off the lower jaw, though it quickly regrew. Nevertheless, the skilled marksman kept doggedly on until his entire store was depleted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s slowing down!” shouted Kalas, eyes narrowed at the latest hole, “Not by much, let’s keep it up!” As he spoke, he took flight once more, channeling light into his blade—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Chlenk.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It glanced off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was too close to dodge the great forehead slamming him into the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude dove and rolled them both out of harm’s way, a watery serpent meeting the counterattack head-on. Crawling off Kalas, he adjusted his scope. It took seconds for him to analyze the data, exclaiming, “I’ve heard about creatures that can alter their composition, change their weaknesses, but I’ve never—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the plan?” Kalas asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! It seems Malpercio has adopted the power of light.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned at him, angling his wings out of the way. “Hop on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they climbed the air, they watched Xelha bind the legs with a coil of fire and smoke, while Mizuti’s shadow stretched to encompass the god, who sank into the floor where it touched. Gibari returned the earlier favor with a headbutt of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At long last, Malpercio tore free of Valefor, just in time for Lyude to launch himself at his forehead, beating it with a darkened barrel. He weaved over and under and around the giant hands that batted at him, kicking all the while. And, when his stamina gave out, he backflipped over the jet of spectral crows issuing from the Sword of the Heavens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fire!” he announced from the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiva was there in an instant, barraging their foe with hail before she was even fully corporealized. Wherever she touched, pillars of ice sprouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final push.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari didn’t bother jumping again, instead devoting himself to launching Shiva’s crystals—and occasionally his spear—at Malpercio’s torso.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The god continued to shift paradigms, but it did little against so diverse a team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drained their life force with his sword, but Papa was in a casting frenzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shot arrows of darkness, but Mizuti swallowed them whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He healed quickly from their attacks, but they never ceased, the momentum carrying them through their exhaustion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas wasn’t sure whose blow made Malpercio sink to his knees, only that doing so was his doom; Shiva exhaled, locking him into place and coating the broken keep in a thin yet impenetrable sheet of ice. Duty done, the frost spread up her flesh as well until the aeon was no more than another crystal in the storm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside his heart, Fee reawakened. And with him came an idea of how he could rescue Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the biting cold of the fog, Fee’s hand was warm and bright. The glow, reflecting off the surrounding vapor, was a near-blinding halo of intermingled blue and gold—an echo of the sky it hid. With that image seared into his mind and his brother’s guidance, Kalas let go of his physical form—converted himself into magna essence—and slipped inside that of Malpercio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a strange sensation, intruding upon another’s soul. He felt like he should be able to ‘see’ in the same way he might when picturing something in his head. Instead, his vision was more akin to touch or proprioception: he ‘felt’ the design and mass of the ‘room’ his quarry had made for herself. It was the throne room of Cor Hydrae as it had been before the battle, though only the parts actively in use by him and her were ‘visible’; the rest was a foggy background awareness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia!” he called to the presence huddled on the throne. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It drew further into itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you hear me? We need to go back, or else we’ll be stuck here… forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia curled as tightly as possible around oblivion. But her will to banish her sense of self was, in and of itself, an exercise in asserting it. Having been reminded of her own existence, it became a struggle to drown herself in that hollowness, just as one might struggle to respirate upon being made aware of their breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay now… everyone’s waiting to welcome you back. Please, just wake up, Melodia!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The not-image sharpened and gained color, a kaleidoscope of unimaginable hues swimming in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Kalas...? My dear Kalas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slender hand found his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gripping tightly, he choked out, “Yeah, it’s me. Let’s go home, sis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner than he thought about it, Kalas felt stone beneath his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes to see Xelha and Calbren working their way over the ice to greet them. Turning to make a snarky comment, it died unspoken in the face of Melodia’s change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without the influence of the Dark Brethren to sustain her, she returned to what she had been before they met: sickly and weak, with illness shadowing her eyes. Unless, of course, he was imagining it due to their shift in color.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...You really are the High Summoner’s kid, huh?” was all he could think to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggled and peeked up at him through her eyelashes. “Would I lie to you?” Despite the joke, he saw apprehension in the bridge of her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he ignored it in favor of stepping back and framing her with thumbs and forefingers, as he would to set up a photograph. “Teal is a good color on you—you wear way too much white, you know that? Doesn’t play nice with the flash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Teal’?” Eyes wide, she whirled about to stare at her reflection in the ice, having to shuffle to keep her balance after the sudden movement. She gasped and raised a trembling hand to play with her bangs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melodia…,” Calbren warbled, openly shedding tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wordlessly met his gaze. Turned back to the ice. A breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her back shone as her heartwings braved their scrutiny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed her wings, too, had lost their color when she was reanimated, for the opaque glass was no longer a uniform white, nor even formed a mirror image. Blues, browns, reds, greens—the feathers’ colors spread randomly across her wingspan like motley. When she gave them an experimental flap, they moved more fluidly than he’d ever seen. In addition to hinges, she’d grown—regrown?—a system of rings and gimbals, arranged similarly to a gyroscope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teary-eyed, she flung herself into her grandfather’s waiting arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he chanted, rocking them side to side, “We’ll get you all fixed up with heartenbrace, you’ll see….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of ‘seeing’...,” said Gibari. He pointed, though it was hardly necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be hard to miss that they had landed safely on the Earth. As well as the distant landmass descending gently into the arms of a giant figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Sibling Gods,” Lyude breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Kalas could just make out the silhouette of Marno, grown to be nearly as large as the island he was catching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look southward,” said Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angle was wrong to tell who it was, but another sibling could be seen in the opposite direction. None others were visible but he didn’t doubt the same was happening elsewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari was the first to let out a celebratory whoop, grabbing Mizuti to give them a noogie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We won?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be greater even than a god!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re alive!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly slipping flat on their faces, his friends swarmed together to share in each other’s joy and relief. Even quieter presences like Savyna and his grandpapa contributed to the noisemaking. Melodia’s apologies were shushed to be dealt with later, when their adrenaline wasn’t running so thick. Mizuti pulled Lyude back from where he’d excitedly begun to scout a way down that they might dance to an off-key rendition of an Al Zhani folk song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was but one exception: Xelha, whose hand rested against what was once her mother, the other still clutching her wand. While he’d been distracted, Shiva had transformed from ice to rock, just as the siblings had before. The last of Malpercio’s pyreflies vanished into Xelha’s chest. Into the sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met and he knew. “It’s about that time, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without waiting for confirmation, he stepped to meet her outstretched arm. The wand dropped, not into the glitter of magnation, but to the ground. It wasn’t as if the owner would ever need to use it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At their backs, the others’ triumph drowned out the clink of metal on tile, the jangle of its bells. Someone—Kalas wasn’t sure who, his ears were thrumming so—let out a whistle when he took her hand, and then the voices retreated. Though he was grateful for the privacy, he wished they would stay; the same drive he’d once committed to resurrecting Malpercio now belonged to Xelha, and nothing less than a pack of misguided do-gooders could stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together they walked to the edge of the platform. Surveyed the land below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barren, lifeless sand, as far as the eye could see. The entirety of the Celestial River could be poured into one of the smaller dips with room to spare. In fact, the earth would probably drink it quicker than it could fall and leave the nations with nothing. There were valleys so deep that, even from their vantage point, their floor disappeared into shadows. And this was but a corner of the Earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would even the Ocean be enough to fill it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the corner of his eye, he could see Xelha, rosy and golden and beautiful, framed by endless drabness—the rubble, the earth, the dust-laden sky. How could she fill the world? She was a drop of water at best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ready,” she said softly, staring sadly down at her birthright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas’ hand and throat tightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cast light upon,” she sang, her own voice thick, “the darkened earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Save those lost in despair,” he responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O~o mighty o~cean~n</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gui~ide u~us</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be his first time singing the Hymn of the Fayth in a while, he realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cast light upo~on</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The darke~ened ear~th</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sa~ave tho~ose</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lo~ost in de~e~spair</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O~o mighty o~cean~n</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gui~ide u~us</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks were wet. The whimsy that he could take her place, replenish the Earth from his tears alone, came and went.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O~o migh~ty</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O~o~o~ocean</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gui~i~i~ide</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Us throu~ou~ou~ough</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The dark~est pit of night</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The dark~est pit</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha’s hand was shaking. Or was it his own? Not that it mattered; as one, they wrapped the other in a desperate embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ma~ay Ti~ime</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ever flee~e~ting</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For~or~gi~ive</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>U~u~u~us</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We who have for~sa~ken</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ou~our so~o~ong</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And bur~ied our fu~ture</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bur~ied our fu~ture</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d sung all he knew, but Xelha sang on.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fare thee we~ell</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My chil~il~il~dren</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Re~e~e~est</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In my hear~ar~ar~art</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For~or~or~ev~ver~r</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>O Mighty O~o~cean</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Guide us and for~give us</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For~or~gi~ive usssssss</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As the final note died out, light filled his vision, his arms tightened on air, and the first raindrop kissed his nose.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 22/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 7/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. In Which Sea Souls See Shoals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s simply no way—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you, I saw him at the Victory Banquet—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lots of people have blue hair, dear—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas pulled his hood slightly lower, dipping his head to meet his spoon. He was mulling over if he should just reveal himself when a gangly teen in red velvet and seal furs cut straight through the gaggle of gossipers to plant herself in one of the surrounding chairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are occupied,” he pointed out drily, indicating the shawls draped over each and every one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Kalas,” replied Odette in mocked affront, “if you think I don’t know that you put those there yourself—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cut in, chuckling, “Okay, okay! Keep your voice down; I didn’t come here to be gawked at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except that was too much to say, since it reminded his conversation partner of the only reason he would’ve visited the Ice Lands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved the spoon into his pudding to avoid her pity. A few currants glopped into its bowl. Its pure silver bowl with its wolf-engraved handle. Not for the first time that evening he had to tamp down the shameful instinct to hawk the royal cutlery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe she left you….” Two months had been enough to burn the anger from her voice, leaving it with the same wispy melancholy as every other Wazni he’d met that day. “I thought surely you would be enough to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we talk about something else?” He saw her flinch in his peripheral vision. Wondered idly if she thought that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought she was going to slap him again if the conversation continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But—! I—!” In her excitement, Odette’s chair scraped slightly back, the sound of wood on ice jarring against the backdrop of dulcimer and bone flute. Still tense, she carefully moved it back, wringing her hands into her long, braided skirt. “I… I’m sorry, I just—! Her Majesty was—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just shut up already</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, then immediately regretted it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, I have to be better this time. Can’t be like when Fee died… and not just because I’m all out of wicked gods to mess with.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Queen Xelha… I wanted to save you…,” Odette sobbed quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Torn between a desire to comfort her and his own misery, he did the same thing he always did: sat there like an idiot and let them both hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cli-clonkle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At the telltale sound of the regent’s heel, Kalas hurriedly turned away, trusting his Wazni coat to disguise him while he assessed the situation. On the curve of his wine glass, a small, misshapen Barnette was still scanning the festival-goers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He released a sigh. She hadn’t found him yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas? Are you okay?” His tablemate was half-risen and looked ready to go in for a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck me, I’m losing my touch.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Less than keen for Odette—a hero in her own right and, as such, quite recognizable—to give him away, Kalas forced a grin and said, “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking, I haven’t been to Shiva’s Womb yet; want to come with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she play-shrieked, tackling him. He pretended not to notice when she surreptitiously wiped her tears off on his shoulder. “Spiced wine, a dip in the springs—that’s the best part of Yuletide!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped, a real grin breaking through. “Underaged drinking? What’s in it for me to keep it on the down-low?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled back enough to punch the side of his ribs, allowing him to worm his way free and scamper into Barnette’s blind spot. “Kalas, you jerk! Just for that you’re uninvited!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, because I really wanted to hang out at a thirteen-year-old’s birthday party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m turning fourteen! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fourteen!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he’d done his penance—an offering of Mira cream, which thankfully wasn’t the only gift he’d prepared, as he wouldn’t have time before the party to find something new—they’d slipped into the caves beneath Kaffaljidhma. Unlike what he’d heard about the Lake of the Dragon, the public area was homey and inviting. Fat-bottomed candles dripped colored wax into ceramic bowls. Ribbons were laced around stalagmites and stalactites, some of which were also strung with little bells. Here and there were ancient mosaics (some of which, he was surprised to note, featured godcraft), worn down in a comforting way. And, most of all, it was warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The springs were crowded and steamy, perfect for hiding. They found a quiet spot to soak in an alcove towards the back of that particular system. The trek there was almost enough for him to forget that everyone was nude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once settled, Odette’s face all but screamed she had something to say. Something difficult, something that would take her a minute or two to work herself up to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As planned, her concentration broke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued, “What have you been up to? On break from the House of Wisdom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “I only went to find something to….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...keep Xelha from dying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Anyways, I’ve been helping the boys. Since they’ve gotten Sherat—uh, Cujam?—all spick and span, it’d be a waste if no one lived there….” Giving an obviously fake laugh, she turned the tables back to him, asking, “What about you? What’s with you avoi—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how it is.” Kalas felt a little bad about cutting her off again, but the last thing he needed was the ever-excitable, got-get-’em Odette finding out about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Sin might be gone but that just means that the fiends think they’ve got a run of the place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t to be so easily distracted again though; she pouted and said, “Ugh, Kalas, you know I wasn’t talking about that; everyone’s heard about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>dashing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Grand Summoner Kalas and all the big, scary fiends he hunts tirelessly, night and day~!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you always this sarcastic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if you’re one to talk!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas sighed, suddenly fatigued by even the thought of continuing the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas, you’re—Majesty!” Odette, seemingly forgetting she was in the water, bowed to the figure emerging from the steam. She sputtered at the liquid that got up her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his chagrin, Barnette waded in, setting a mid-sized basket on a natural shelf in the rock. Based on the one that his companion had brought, it likely held towels (one for drying, one enchanted to provide a chill contrast to the water’s heat) and other essentials. “Greetings and apologies, Lady Odette. May I speak with Lord Kalas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odette, for all her earlier heckling, left as quickly as he wished he could. He’d have to remember to tease her later. Much later, if he ended up having to give Barnette the slip again. It was a good thing he’d given her the perishable gift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you’ve thought it over?” asked Barnette without ceremony, removing a decanter of wine and two crystal stems. Judging by the rolls of cool mist that sluiced over the rim, he suspected they were carved ice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He accepted the proffered glass, sniffing it. As expected, it was Xelha’s supposed favorite, just like the last time they’d had this conversation. “You know I haven’t.” He almost abstained out of paranoia—what if it was drugged so she could trap him?—but the feeling fizzled out under the weight of apathy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wazn needs you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tone was more even than before, at least. Then again, those first weeks had been a powder keg of conflicting emotions. He himself could barely remember anything besides crying-induced headaches and the scent of celestial flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wazn needs a lot of things, and I’m last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnette sighed. “You’re not the man you once were, Lord Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t bet on it.” He had, after all, been falling into old habits left and right recently. It was as if he’d cried out all of the goodness the pilgrimage had fostered in him and been left entirely empty. Everything he’d done since then felt like going through the motions of an old hobby—not for its own sake, but just to feel something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sensation wasn’t unlike the influence of the old gods—stifling, an aching emptiness—but it was lesser, more easily compartmentalized. It wasn’t the desire to be used, mind, body, and soul; it was a general dispassion towards his wants and needs. Unpleasant, but nothing new. He would gladly take the extra hour needed to rouse himself in the mornings over the mental paralysis he’d labored under before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnette raised an eyebrow at his dismissal. “You broke the Dark Brethren’s hold through willpower alone. You united a nation under the rule of an emigre. You slayed the Wicked God and returned the long-lost ocean. You are far from the man who conspired to unleash darkness upon the world; indeed, you are uniquely qualified to lead Wazn into a new morrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said nothing, eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most of all,” she continued, “The love you shared with our late queen is known far and wide. I’m sure the people would accept you as their prince, consummated or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of him was tempted to accept solely to see the look on Geldoblame’s face. The rest of him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all it takes? Some juicy gossip, and then a nobody can rule one of the most ancient and powerful nations on the earth? That’s pathetic,” he said, flatly enough to sour his wine, “Xelha and I—it was complicated. We were enemies. We lied to each other. We tried to kill each other. We….” He swallowed hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt to talk about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, sensing a vulnerability, the regent pressed on. “Her Majesty believed in you so much she sacrificed the Ocean Mirror for your sake. She would be saddened to see you so lost.” Her arms spread wide. “Let us give you a place to rest your wings, my child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fare thee well, my children.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory of her last words echoed through his being as if he were a conch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas stood up. Chilled by the air, the glass, and mourning, he knocked back the rest of his drink, barely stifling a cough from the burn. He returned it to her stiffly, then turned away and said, “I won’t let you turn our… our bond into some cheap PR bid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he grasped the handle of the basket Odette had left behind, he saw her head incline in a grave nod. Teeth gritted, he marched as furiously away as the water and slick stone allowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sensed he was being followed, but waited until he was clear of the baths—and clothed—to confront them. Not that he needed to, for a pale-faced Odette shyly slid into view, hands locked at the base of her spine. She was shivering, though he doubted it was from the damp curls which had defiantly plastered themselves against her neck, no matter how many times she scraped at them with her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, uh, left this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her slender arms came forward and hugged the basket against her torso. He could hear the rubber greythorne, no doubt imported from Alfard, as it tumbled against the wicker inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you leaving?” she asked quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed her again, this time out of Kaffaljidhma into Cursa proper. Under the twilight, the streets took on shades of violet and orange. It was much, much easier to appreciate the beauty of the frozen paradise without the sun glaring at him from every angle. He’d laughed at Xelha for encasing herself in bright pinks but he could see now why she’d want to. For as picturesque as Wazn was, it was a world of blue and white and more blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas snorted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I took the throne, I’d blend right in… and not in a good way.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d seen the icicle Xelha used to sit on. If not for his skin, he’d look like just another ice sculpture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odette glanced back at the sound. Having calmed down a bit, she fell back in step, bending to the side at the waist. “For what it’s worth….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An eyebrow crawled upwards of its own accord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I think you’d make a terrible king,” she concluded, quirking a smile when he laughed in return, “You’d get mad at all the stupid old people and challenge them to duels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’d go live in a log cabin somewhere. Barnette would spend half the annual budget sending me their whining by pigeon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggled incredulously. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Half?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> What, are you eating them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Letter and all. It’s what Xelha would do.” After he said it, he realized he wasn’t joking; she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been fond of strange dishes. Woe betide anyone who tried to train courier fish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, after mulling it over, she nodded. “Queen Xelha doesn’t—</span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>—have to wrestle with her advisors much, but when she did….” Her wicked grin said it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems like her….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wisps of mirth petered out. He felt cold again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting her lip, Odette made a few aborted attempts to reach for him. When she finally overcame her nerves, he met her halfway, tucking the tiny girl under his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was a little bit better.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, there goes the last of that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Despite his protestations at her birthday last month, Odette had gifted him a parcel of candied dates, reindeer jerky, and walnut rusk for ‘saving the world and all’. The past nine days spent trapped had seen to its depletion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was one drawback to regaining 97% of the earth’s water, it was the sea creatures that came with it. Particularly troublesome was an octopus almost the size of the Whale, which had recently taken to attacking merchant vessels in the Celestial Archipelago. The fiend currently had its ugly purple tentacles wrapped around the figurehead of a Duhrian freighter, which had been expected in Sadal Suud weeks ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again? Seriously?” Kalas muttered, watching the Earth Children preparing another magical onslaught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Predictably, it didn’t seem any more impressed than the last few times they tried it. Worse, the flailing tentacles made it too dangerous for him to leave his spit of land, little more than a sad rock spire. Swimming was out of the question, the conditions were poor for takeoff </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> flying, and neither Fee nor Valefor were suited to battling a spell-resistant fiend. He didn’t have any useful magnus left either.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CRACK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The octopus screamed as its own attack backfired—the ship, having broken in half under the strain, skewered its gelatinous body. Before long, it was close enough to death for Kalas to sense its pyreflies.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Got you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The ocean’s restoration had had its drawbacks, yes, but with it came one thousand years’ worth of pyreflies and the innumerable tricks one could perform with them. And no one had learned more tricks than Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three short months had nonetheless been long enough that he didn’t so much as glance down as he stepped out onto the water, confident that it would bear his weight. Sword of the Heavens in hand, he spun across the surface with the slow, soothing gestures the pyreflies liked. A stroke through the seawater, sweetened with an offering of his own mana, enticed the remnants of the fallen crew to his blade on their way to the Farplane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a technique that always worked—too far from land and the sea’s call would overpower his own, too far from water and they’d be sparse and difficult to direct. But, with the Celestial Alps at the limit of a strong flyer’s range and a powerful fiend close to death, the Sword became the focal point of its own galaxy. Kalas leapt skyward—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—and landed in a field of pyreflies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a bumper crop of dandelion fluff, they dispersed with the force of his landing. The completion of the Sending finished the job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the loss of most of their precious cargo, the merchants cheered and whooped and sang his praises. Kalas could only sigh, the thrill of victory already gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dutifully set off his signal flare.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It took two days for the Al Fhard relief ship to find them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’d just started to get comfortable in his old stomping grounds too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they’d docked at Pherkad harbor, the captain, whose accent and uniform identified her as colony-born, had updated all survivors on the situation. Namely, that it had worsened considerably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since the Descent, infectious diseases had been on a steep rise with no sign of slowing down. Germs such as fluella had diverged into two distinct families: Duhrian and Sky strains. What was a mild inconvenience for the carriers could be outright deadly for those who came in contact with them. Heartwaste had become prevalent as well, following the path of the Final Pilgrimage—or rather, Melodia’s footsteps. Many of the new ills came from Mira, as contact with other dimensions had introduced germs with no ancestors in common with those of Earth or even the other islands. Kalas had been turned away from more than a few villages due to quarantine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angler’s gout. Nosepox. Jungle fever. Phlegm gut. Sniffilis. Landsickness. Rot-hand. Wing thrush. Miasmus. Capellan cross. Ocean’s fugue. Cankercrotch. Scarlet cough. Anal congestion. Birdcolic. Holodelirium. Blaggums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfard and Wazn were the best off, due to their superior medical science and herbological witchcraft respectively. Duhr, too, for their accustomedness to a harsh lifestyle and fields of heartenbrace helped fight the pathogens. Aside from the resurgence of heartwaste, the Miran immune system was trained against a wide enough variety of threats as to reduce the symptoms of otherwise debilitating illnesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there was Sadal Suud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By design, the nation was underdeveloped. It had been invaluable for reducing Sin attacks but left the Sadali ill-equipped to cope with other threats. As a result, the capital’s streets, usually bustling with produce carts and yippy children, were barren, save for the occasional prone cloudgull in the gutters. In the distance, he could see a housewife opening a window for just long enough to dump a bucket of feather clumps outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was starting to understand the desperation that drove the captain to brave the Ice Lands on rumor alone. That drove her to seek out the so-called ‘Grand Summoner’, who was already becoming known for his transience. It was almost enough to make him forgive that one Anuenuan noble who, in a fit of drunkenness, started a brawl over Xelha’s love life at the Victory Banquet—the inglorious introduction of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> romantic entanglements to the rumor mill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> kiss a skinless man?” Far from repulsion, the child seemed jealous of his supposed exploits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glared in Lolo’s general direction before replying curtly, “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Told you!” shrieked the first child’s friend, brandishing a rag-clothed straw doll with an exposed stomach, “Lord Kalas and ‘Army Rank’ Giacomo were meant to be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Giacomo is my dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At their gleeful faces, he wondered if saving the world would be enough to keep his karma in check should he decide to kick a small child down the stairs later. He decided not to risk it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nasty!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No wonder Lady Xelha thought you had cooties!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he really, really wanted to risk it.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Kalas, would you accompany the envoy to Cebalrai?” asked the newly promoted head of the Duhrian band.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas squinted at the heartenbrace that had made it through the wreck. At a mere five barrels, it wasn’t likely to be enough for Pherkad, let alone any additional villages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d hold off on that,” he sighed, gesturing at the plague-stricken city, “Spread it too thin and you might as well not bring it at all.” Before the other could protest, he added, “Besides, the esteemed Doctor Larikush is already working on relief efforts down there. Wouldn’t want to step on his toes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… see,” the Earth Child replied, clearly reluctant, “Then… to the lord’s manor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tutted. “Are you nuts? They’ll be fine—they’re nice and safe at home being waited on hand and foot. If you drop it off there, they’ll just hoard it away for themselves anyway.” He waved dismissively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Earth Children looked at one another in discomfort. The unique challenges of surviving, thriving, and toiling beneath the Taintclouds had necessitated the reduction of social stratification. While each region had their own practices, the Nations of the Earth were nigh universal in their social structure: there was a chief, the rest of the village, and maybe an elder or two who had willingly retired before their time. Resources had to be shared equally, as doing otherwise tended to doom a community. And, due to their toxic environment, the availability of medicine was of particular concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The most experienced of the bunch, who had spent sixty years as a travelling wisewoman, motioned for the others to listen to her. “The Grand Summoner knows this place better than we.” Her matter-of-fact tone, in contrast to the somber dignity her baritone lent to everything else she said, made the title chafe less than usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas used his sword to draw a rough map of the city in the dirt. Aside from the poorer districts and the locations of relevant premises—physicians, apothecaries, and the like—he didn’t bother with details. “The streets come first—got to limit the pool of victims.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or so Papa said in the letters he’d sent to everyone he knew. Given that said list included kings and emperors and other bigwigs, it’d been a surprisingly effective way of spreading comprehensive epidemiology. No matter that he continued to insist that he was a dabbler in the field.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the time came, Kalas hoisted his barrel and boiled the water and did everything he was told by the professionals. There wasn’t much he could do, but he did it. Every little bit helped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every little bit had to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(If it didn’t, he didn’t know what he would do.)</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kalas had barely taken his first step past Opu’s gate when a townsperson hailed him. He vaguely recognized the lavishly dressed summoner, though he couldn’t place why. He hadn’t mingled much on his first visit to Anuenue and the Victory Banquet at the start of the Eternal Calm had been packed, particularly with summoners eager to fawn over their ‘savior’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meeting him halfway across the first bridge, the man enthusiastically shook his hand. “Lord Kalas! It’s been too long!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah,” he replied, for lack of a better answer, “How’ve you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not half bad! And yourse—” The summoner cut himself off, that damn pity building in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding back a sigh, Kalas whittled a smile into place. “Pretty good. I’ll be even better once I track down Mayfee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mayfee? Last I saw she was helping her grandma with shopping!” The man leaned out far over the railing to scan the crowds below. Then, finding the girl in question, bellowed, “Mayfee! Guest for you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The response that echoed up sounded garbled to Kalas, but the other identified it as instructions to wait by her house. He cheerfully guided him to the correct door, excusing himself to continue his prior errand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas!” Mayfee shrieked delightedly, bounding over. At the tail end of her short journey, she seemed to recall the dignity of her station and adopted a more reserved gait. Passersby looked on with amused fondness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For his part, he could barely keep back his grin. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he gave her her present. It was a long time coming—due to overwhelming demand, he’d had to travel quite a bit to track down a merchant who had excess stock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were settled inside with tea (mango for him, as he found the perfume of Opu’s specialty overbearing), he wasted no time in releasing the coveted magnus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?” she asked, puzzled at the poultice in her cupped hands. The twist of the cloth was rougher than Papa’s work but he was proud of his efforts nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heartenbrace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes lit up in amazement. “The medicine they give to people who are really sick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It helps strengthen the heart, heals wings. I happened to find some—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After checking Alu and Cursa and every caravan from here to Gemma.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“—and thought of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of jumping for joy, she almost looked guilty, brows meeting in a mess of wrinkles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mayfee? You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lip wobbled. “Um, I… well… don’t need it? But thank you for getting it for me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. “You already got some? I didn’t think heartwaste was common enough on Anuenue for the merchants to come this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I….” She paused, then summoned her wings. They hadn’t changed since he’d last seen them. Walking to a nightstand, she picked up a mirror and aimed it to inspect her old wounds. “...It used to bother me that I was like this. No one ever really picked on me… but I knew that they were thinking about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Used to’? It doesn’t anymore?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slowly shook her head. “My wings may not be whole, but my heart is. That’s what grandma says.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your heart is too, Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something loosened in his chest and eyes, and he had to turn away for a moment. When his throat was less thick, he muttered, “Thanks, Mayfee. I mean it. And you’re sure about the heartenbrace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! Besides, wings are—” Jaw clicking shut, her lips rumpled with hesitance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One stiff walk to her dresser later, Kalas was smoothing out a small, worn square of paper, curled at the edges where idle hands had rolled it. It depicted a silver, birdlike entity with a black underside. The dark area was splattered with small amounts of white paint, though the fact of the paint’s isolation showed it had been deliberate. Beneath its upraised arms were a pair of human figures in profile, prostrate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their wings were a great deal smaller than most artists tended to draw, and something about their presentation made him feel uneasy. After a moment, he placed it: rather than growing out of their backs, they appeared to be foreign objects readying to pierce the skin, like a sewing needle pressing against a finger pad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t really get a lot of what they were saying,” continued Mayfee. In his peripheral, he could see her scuffing the floor. “But there were these Children of the Earth who stopped by the village a few months after we landed and they said that wings were bad. They talked about Malpercio a bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malpercio, huh?” He stared down at the scrap. “Sorry, but I haven’t heard anything like that. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. The Great Mizuti likes our wings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was amazing what a namedrop of his fellow guardian could do to direct the conversation to lighter topics. The arrival of Mayfee’s grandmother further pushed the girl’s troubles from her mind, and he ended up staying for roast quail and gourd soup. Though offered a bed for the night, he slipped out after the two fell asleep, curled together on Mayfee’s bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, as he rested on an overlook under the moonless sky, Kalas sketched out his memory of the image in the dirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malpercio, huh?” he said again, “Did they have wings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, the night was young and he had a lot of nowhere to travel to, and so that thread of curiosity was sent to writhe with all the other tasks that were too exhausting to think about, let alone attempt.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>"It’s no one’s fault,” said Xelha, licking her claws clean. Though he couldn’t see it, the blood of Sin was thick on them. It stained her tongue and eyes purple.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He chewed on the braid he couldn’t remember her giving him and replied, “It </span>
  </em>
  <span>is</span>
  <em>
    <span> someone’s fault. If I can’t be a mermaid, then what’s even the point of the pilgrimage?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, Kalas, there’s more to life than being a mermaid.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Easy for you to say,” he shot back, glaring at her scales. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were orange, some with black stripes. He’d called dibs on that tail, dammit. The only one left was a winglet—tail-let?—and it smelled like Guillude. And he didn’t want to smell like </span>
  </em>
  <span>him</span>
  <em>
    <span>; the last time that happened, as he suddenly recalled, he’d looked down at his nursing brood to see a dozen Folons staring up at him. It’d taken forever to stuff that many babies in Gylude’s mailbox, not helped by the stack of Geldoblames already there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s no one’s fault,” said Xelha, licking her claws clean. Though he couldn’t see it, the blood of Sin was thick on them. It stained her tongue and eyes purple.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It </span>
  </em>
  <span>is</span>
  <em>
    <span> someone’s fault. If I can’t be a mermaid, then what’s even the point of the pilgrimage?” He chewed on the fin she was waving in front of his nose. Made a face. She’d pickled it again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, Melodia, there’s more to life than more to life than.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He frowned at the white fringe at the top of his vision. No matter how long he stared, it only turned blue when he looked away. “I guess you’re right.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha was having a problem of her own: the scales on her tail kept lifting in clusters, letting saltwater seep out onto the floor. She quickly began to deflate.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He tried to help her pin them down, but the water kept washing off his skin, forcing him to pull back and buff it back on.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“All life returns to the sea. All life returns to the sea,” Xelha sang, peeling back the scales as he fixed them. Soon she was nothing more than loose skin, emptied of all her innards. Still she sang, “All life returns to the sea, all life returns to the sea.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas jerked awake. Crawled to his feet, then down to the cave pool that he was almost 50% sure wasn’t contaminated. A few splashes woke him up fully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t even scary,” he told his stuttering heart. It wasn’t even a lie; compared to his usual nightmares, it should have made him laugh more than anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, awake was awake. Taking one last glance at the evidence of his troubled sleep—cheek scrapes from his pillow of rock, mussed hair, and dark circles—he walked back to his campsite, eager to get an early start if it meant freedom from his dreams.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kalas knew, logically, that the gargantuan shadow was not Sin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That he had met him many, many, many times over in the Sky. That it was an honor to see him, one that he’d been blessed with on seven separate occasions. That it had been Fee’s dream and Xelha’s hope and the one loose end he hadn’t gotten around to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kalas still had to swivel midstep and duck behind the sea stack he’d just passed to calm his heart. When he was done panting against the rock, he realized that he’d inadvertently summoned his wings during his panic attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Waaaaaaohhhh~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘We who have forgotten our Song’,” he mumbled to himself as the Great Whale’s voice washed over the beach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dared to look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Whale resembled greythornes in shape—which was fair, given that he was their aggregate form—but not color. White below and blue-green-grey above, he often went unnoticed unless breaching. Part of why Kalas was so wary of their meetings was because the Whale always made himself known when they were near.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike in the past, when Kalas would find a reason not to stick around, he felt… nothing. Just a bored sort of ambivalence seasoned with the remnants of his instinctive terror. He didn’t really want to stay, but leaving was also a bother. And in a way it matched his mood as of late: an empty beach studded with cliffs and stacks and shallow caves that smelled of kelp; the late autumn wind, which fiddled with the gray surf and grayer skies, and its chill against skin he kept meaning to cover; the doleful moan that harmonized with it, that resonated within his ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, a raven blot on the ashen scene, when the song of the Whale began to grow quieter.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Diminuendo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he could almost hear Lyude chirp. His mouth tried to smile but gave up at the first twitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when he caught sight of it: a spherical object bobbing against the shore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curiosity won out, and Kalas shuffled across the taupe sand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he found was a large ball of coral, golden-brown and craggy like a peach pit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gripped the top to pull it to shore, only for it to break in half, the bottom splashing back into the sea with a giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like something out of a fairytale, the coral acted as a bassinet; a baby girl lay inside the hollow structure, staring up at him with round, umber eyes. She was old enough to have grown curls of wheat blonde hair, which was striking against her tan skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is she Al Zhani?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gingerly picking up the child, he compared his arm against hers. Hers was lighter and quite a bit cooler in tone. Further damning was her ambiguous features and, of course, the fact that he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>found her inside a hunk of coral.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The baby wasn’t interested in any of the questions her presence raised, preferring instead to conk out with a strange expression. Very drooly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scanning the horizon for a parent he knew he wouldn’t find, Kalas sighed, drew out a blanket, and tromped off with his bundle. He’d eventually find a village. He just hoped the child was past the nursing stage.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dithutlwa had earned its moniker as the ‘Earth-Nestled City’. Like Opu, every building was carved into the cliff face. But where one was humble, the other reveled in its architectural genius. Not a step nor signpost was carelessly placed; down to the last chisel mark, the planning that went into the design made itself apparent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although the Ocean’s return had flooded most of the Alhayyah Trenches, Dithutlwa was at a high enough elevation that it was mostly spared. As for what was not, the residents used pyreflies to manipulate the water into a dome, which held back the seas. It had the added benefit of turning a fifth of the city into an aquarium. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since the first time he heard of it when the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterbean</span>
  </em>
  <span> fell, Kalas had learned more of its history. From the start of what was starting to be referred to as the Age of Exile, the city was a pipedream of those artists who were made to put aside their craft in favor of more pressing matters, namely saving the world. For nearly one thousand years, the blueprints had been visited again and again, until they came to represent the hopes of all Earth Children. By the time actual construction began a generation ago, it was seen as the closest to perfection that any mortal hands were capable of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas wasn’t sure that he agreed, but there was no denying its majesty nor ease of navigation. Nor the awe inherent to standing inside a millenium-long collaborative project.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stirring at his back reminded him why he came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before devoting himself to the search for a home for the kid, he made his way to a magnus shop. He hadn’t felt like restocking the last several times he found himself in civilization, and the shortages were beginning to become a problem. Besides, if the last few towns had taught him anything, it was that the orphan market was oversaturated as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lowering his cowl almost to his nose, Kalas pushed past the curtain of clay beads into the least tourist-y looking store.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greetings! How may I be….” The shopkeep trailed off as he took in his customer’s appearance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas rattled off his list of foodstuff, potions, sundries, and, after some consideration, a few choice pieces of armor on display. Anuenuan equipment tended to be made for short term use, after which it would be returned to the soil, and his new lifestyle was rough on his gear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, this isn’t…,” frowned the shopkeep, placing the last coin in a stack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not enough?” Kalas fumbled through his various pockets and holsters to no avail. “Huh. Forget the armor then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sheesh, where did it all go? With all the living off the land I’ve been doing, you’d think I’d have more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, even then you’ll be short by twenty-three gold pieces… maybe more.” He indicated a pile of coins that were dirty or worn. The state of the reliefs made their origin, and therefore value, hard to pinpoint. What had probably once been Corellia eyed him from the top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when the kid decided to tug his cowl for attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, cut it out!” he groused, swinging the sling to the front so he could look the troublemaker in the eye, “I don’t go yanking on </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Metal across wood called him back to the shopkeep. The nervous teen was pushing all the gold back, save for the tarnished pieces. Those he switched out for newly minted Duhrian coinage of equal value... under a very generous exchange rate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fixed a scowl rather than his cowl. “I don’t need your pity. Or,” he added, knowing the coming protest by heart, “your gratitude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-well, what about my congratulations, Your Lordship?” The youth’s eyes kept dipping to stare at the child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found her on a beach. She’s not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I go back to Komo Mai and hear about any bastard children, I’m taking it out on you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… see….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid began to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head throbbed in anticipation of the inevitable migraine. “You going to take my money or not? I can find another shop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh, I….” The shopkeep looked ready to cry himself. After a few moments’ hesitation, he jerkily gathered together the magnus under Kalas’ gruff eye. He dropped one or two, which was followed by an explosion of apologies that only served to hasten the arrival of his headache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas finally sighed and turned his attention to the other kid. His memories of childhood weren’t strong, but he could never forget the ordeal that was being on the lam with a baby. “Hey, shh, shh. Want to hear a story?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little drama queen stopped crying immediately and clapped her hands. “Merm! Merm!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again?” He’d told the tale of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Mermaid In the Eye</span>
  </em>
  <span> so many times in the past month and a half that he’d had to start making up new versions just to keep himself from getting bored. At least he had a lot of material to work with, given his part in the truth of the tale. “Well, you’re the boss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned against the wall, cleared his throat, and began:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once upon a time, there was a War of the Gods. Five among them were desperate to stop it, no matter the odds. They made a deal with the wicked Dark Brethren: for the price of their souls, they’d gain power enough to cleave heaven.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Calling themselves Malpercio, the siblings won the war, but they couldn’t have known what the Earth then had in store. The ancient wizards joined forces with the Queen of Ice, but the Dark Brethren had already exacted their price. Malpercio became the fayth of the aeon Sin, who had the power to revive itself by residing within any aeon brought to bear against its unworldly might—not that anyone was willing to put up a fight. Sin was unstoppable… or so thought all. But the Ice Queen’s clever daughter would not let the world fall.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Having gotten the probably-historically-accurate parts out of the way, it was time to give his audience what she wanted: pure speculation and outright myth based on a children’s tale from a dead language:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Princess Xiuhcoatl devised a plan herself that, if it wouldn’t save them, would keep hope upon the shelf.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“O Great Whale,” she beseeched, “you must flee from Sin’s reach! As sand slips through my hands, be as grains on the land!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Great Whale agreed, though it pained him to heed. He shattered himself into Greythornes aplenty, as he could neither stay nor abandon humanity.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mother,” said she, “would you kindly swallow the Sea? Where all life returns, Sin mustn’t touch, lest all life be reborn under Sin’s clutch.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Ice Queen agreed. She swallowed the Sea. She buried our Song so that it might be sung anon.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“O wizards,” she cried, “see how these lands have died! Cut free what remains to find shelter among the stars, while you, dear friends, set about healing the Earth’s scars.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The wizards agreed and the islands were freed. Kept aloft by gods’ tombs, the Sky Children grew plumes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One final task remained for Princess Xiuhcoatl: to collect the power to kill Sin and stop it in a bottle. No jar of glass, however, could hope to hold such might, which was why she offered up her body to the Earth’s plight. Calling on the pyreflies, she encased her soul in snow and dropped it in the Dragon’s lake, where it remains below. Shiva she was called, for shiver did her foes when her frost crept and crawled its way across their nose and toes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As Sin had its tricks, so did Shiva too: not one mermaid but a whole pod began to accrue power from the souls of queens who dwelt in the frozen peaks—emeriti uncountable to whom the Ice Queen speaks. They lay in wait to sing the Song we buried, a capella.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Final Ice Queen came at last, the golden rose named… Xelha.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She dreamed of Sin and of her fate, but worried most of all for a raven she had Seen the Dark Brethren enthrall. Gold and black joined hands in holy pilgrimage, but his heart and senses locked again and again in scrimmage. He knelt before the Brethren and made himself their sword, bleached his wings—coal black to white—the herald of their ward. As White-Winged Darkness he struck the queen, but still she would not falter; and her compassion, in the end, sliced surely through his halter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The mermaid returned unto the Earth, looked out upon its devastation, and used her voice to enlist the might of every nation. The Brethren fell and Shiva froze the Wicked God, along with his haven. Queen Xelha sang our Song in counterpoint to the reformed raven.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Flecks of foam the queen became, and thus did flood the Earth—the Ocean, Whale, and people Sang, were grateful for their rebirth. Though she be gone, Queen Xelha would not wish to see any cry—from her birth she knew what it meant to be the Mermaid in the Eye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Applause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not just from the easily-amused baby or the shopkeep, but from behind as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A crowd had gathered to listen: residents, tourists, and far too many children. The few who didn’t recognize him as the raven from the story snuck around him to leave coins on the pile on the counter. Those who knew the so-called Grand Summoner on sight performed the Eye of the Whale, while the less sure praised his telling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One old woman went so far as to dump the entirety of her purse into the dip of his cowl, scolding him for ‘letting so handsome a face get so haggard, for land sakes!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was ready to leave Dithutlwa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd’s presence seemed to bolster the shopkeep’s confidence, for he reasserted his intention to supply the goods for free. Upon hearing that, the crowd made to block Kalas in until he caved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took the gift and fled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only when distance melted their adulation into a faint, amorphous din that he remembered the child in his arms.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Just as he was ready to give up entirely, the ‘one last ridge’ he crested revealed itself to be the peak. And not just any peak—the final obstacle between him and Cursa. It was strange to think that not even a year prior, he’d been there for the Yuletide celebrations. It was stranger to think it had been a year and two days since Xelha died. He just hoped everything he’d done in that time would be enough to keep the others off his back; the first two days of the Festival of the Calm were scheduled to honor the ancient wizards and the Kaffaljidhma line, neither of which required his attendance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, he dragged his feet to the nearest rock. As much as he longed to collapse upon it and nap, damn the consequences, he still had a baby to attend to. The kid had stopped crying some time ago and, while he was normally happy for that kind of quiet, he knew enough to understand that it wasn’t a good sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are,” he said as he untied the sling, still panting from exertion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There she was: swaddled in a mix of fabrics, face ruddy from wind. Unwrapping the child, Kalas slipped her inside of his fur-lined coat, face to his chest—it hadn’t been the first time her temperature dropped like that during the journey, so he knew she would begin to stir once she’d had enough time to leech off his body heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead he focused on food. He could make do with a coin-a-cart magnus shop kebab, but the kid lived off whatever he could find.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cursed upon seeing the first handful of magnus, as he’d waited too long and the milk had aged into yogurt and even cheese. Since he didn’t know how old the kid was, the latter was out. The bananas, too, had gone bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like its avocado and yogurt today. Lucky you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid wiggled feebly in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas hesitated at that; because the last stretch of the trip had been so treacherous, he’d waited longer to check on her than he had previously. Had he waited too long? Checking her face, he noted that there was a bluish tinge to the skin around the lips, like a parody of a goatee.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m no doctor, but that’s not a good sign.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Teeth gritted, he estimated the distance with his thumb. Even with the aid of pyreflies—plentiful with the fjords running through Gomeisa—it was too far. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guess I’ll have to make a splash</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He first stuffed the magnus back into a satchel, then assumed as best a summoning stance as he could while also supporting an infant. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Get us out of here, Valefor!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fast travel, time to rest, and the heat of the aeon’s lantern were the upsides to the summoning. The downsides? A metal rod for a seat, the higgledy-piggledy flight path, and a beacon for every lookie-loo within a mile radius. He was about to order Valefor go directly to the White Dragon’s personal landing bay when he saw a flash of brilliant red against the azure streets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Lyude! Resb zasu se thuu!</span>” he cried with a jaunty wave. He was genuinely excited to see his old guardian, in a way that had seemed impossible back on Diadem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The emperor waved off his bodyguards’ automatic aggression, pulling Kalas into a hug as soon as he landed. Cheeks kissed, he drew back, beaming up at him. “<span>Kalas! Az’th kuus zee resb! Aey tuorra sythz vesu fathaz—Sezkut koth kuus buzzasb vtethth kazk kek razzru A vos zurr kut okeyz aeyt kurr-kuasb</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Kurr-kuasb’?” Kalas searched his memory for the word, “Sorry, don’t know that one yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude’s eyes lit up nonetheless. “Incredible! Your accent has gotten much better. I must confess, I didn’t notice that we weren’t speaking Yevonese!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled back, eyes damp. What was incredible was how happy he was just to be with a friend. He’d dreaded seeing the others after how he fell apart in the aftermath, hadn’t felt like being with people, and yet now that the moment had come, it felt as if the rush of fondness in his chest should be visible for its intensity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas? Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped out of his head. “Ha, yeah, sorry. Long trip. There was a glacier in the main road, so I tried to find a shortcut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His friend seemed less than convinced. “You’re sure? You seem….” He raised a hand as if to touch Kalas’ cheek, then retracted it with a furrowing of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty busted? Yeah, I’ve been… getting that a lot….”  The giddiness fled as suddenly as it came, replaced by the chill of Wazn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude’s poker face was characteristically terrible, but he obligingly pasted a smile on and said, “Ah, no matter! Let’s get you warm—the others have yet to wake but I’m sure you’re hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s not awake?” asked a woman’s voice, bafflingly familiar to him. And so it remained, until she sauntered into view, bleary-eyed and grumpy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ayme?” gasped Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t have to sound so surprised,” she grumbled. Then his identity penetrated her grogginess and her eyes widened. “Kalas?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved, a little sarcastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you haven’t changed.” After she was done rolling her eyes, they landed on his face. Sharpened. “Actually, now that I get a look at you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude leaned slightly toward her, apparently a well-worn signal to drop the subject at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced between them and grimaced. “Why are we standing in the cold anyway?” Under her breath, she continued, “If I have to stay in this nation longer than a week, my tits will fall off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas grinned. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been practicing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a cough, Lyude gestured towards Kaffaljidhma Palace, of which only the spires were visible. “In any case, shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a moment to punch Kalas’ shoulder with something near fondness, then draped herself over her lover like a cat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they made their way past the smatterings of early risers, it occurred to him that, aside from his grandpapa’s letter—of which he had many copies, for Papa knew his habits well enough to send one to every major city and then some—he hadn’t had contact with his comrades for almost a year. Clearly the two were still involved, but he had no idea to what extent. And not knowing wrankled. Still, he held off as long as he could, the better to find the words to ask. After all, he couldn’t let Ayme dangle her newly acquired language skills in front of his nose without at least a token effort to compete.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, hand coming to rest bracingly on the kid’s back, he sidled into her view and said, “<span>The, lal A sathth zku kullasb?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A kathk!</span>” she groaned. She seemed to sense Lyude’s reproving stare and added, “<span>Koaz, koku, A bythz suosz zkoz A kosz ze buz es kazk az ortuola!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zku thusozu koth kuus tuthathzosz ze Al Zhani vesthetzth</span>,” Lyude explained, a mischievous twinkling to his eyes as he played along, “<span>An sez net Geldoblame osl Melodia</span>—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Koaz, kkoz?! Thasvu kkus ath zkutu os ‘osl’ kazk zkethu zke?</span>!” He didn’t know if that info was more juicy or terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The emperor merely chuckled. “<span>Ok, zkua kofu kuus vettuthdeslasb thasvu orsethz zku Luthvusz—natthz oth thzozuthsus, zkus as tusasathvusvu en kut ludotzul dotuszth. Zkua kofu lufuredul vyazu zku ntauslthkad en zkuat eks</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, they have their love of melodrama in common, I’ll give them that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was kind of glad that Melodia’s contact with the outside world was limited while she underwent treatment—he’d hate to see what they would get up to in person. </span>
  <em>
    <span>On second thought, I’m glad this is happening now and not in the Sky. They would probably have started a coup or something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aloud he said, “<span>Kyk. Oz ruothz zkua’tu dyzzasb zkuat thvkusasb ze beel ythu, A byuthth</span>.” He had faith in Melodia, at least, to solve the crisis. Which was why turned back to Ayme with a smirk. “<span>Kurr, A koth beasb ze koaz yszar Folon koth kutu zee, kyz kkaru ku’tu es zku thykbuvz….</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude, looking embarrassed, tried to wave him off like he had his guards. “<span>Kalas, az’th sez tuorra suvuththota….</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayme interjected, “<span>Aey ztaul ze varr Lyude. Zkavu. Aey les’z buz ze bafu zku thkefur zorv</span>.” It was the most serious he’d ever seen her. In fact, she almost looked like she wanted to give the aforementioned talk to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was convincing enough that he was comfortable leaving it be. “<span>Kek okeyz o ‘vesbtozth’?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zkoz’th sez kkoz aey kutu</span>—” she protested, “Hey, wait, we’ve been speaking…!” Wide-eyed, she gaped at him before huffing a laugh. “Well, I guess I don’t have room to stand either. Thanks, Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She even sounded sincere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long, low whistle came from atop a signpost ahead. It was Folon, crouching like a gargoyle, who had for some reason decided to go shirtless in the cold. It couldn’t have been out of comfort, for his teeth were chattering so hard that his snarky greeting became unintelligible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not so for Kalas. “You want to put a shirt on? You’re turning blue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch, never heard that one before,” he shot back, turning to the others, “It’s their fault anyway, leaving me to waste away in a cold, lonely bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His antics, it seemed, were commonplace, if the way the guards automatically averted their eyes was any indication. Kalas should have followed their example, as Folon gave a nasty grin and cupped his chest. “Look at these diamonds—half the imperial treasury right there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Folon….” Lyude’s sigh was long-suffering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayme took a more direct approach, throwing a snowman’s eye directly at a quarter of the treasury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell off his perch, complaining the whole way. “<span>Sa saddru! Kek veyrl aey?!</span>” He brushed unhappily at the coal dust, only succeeding at smearing it further into the crags. “<span>Ybk, Lyude’th sufut beasb ze ravv az oboas!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude was speechless and red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas chimed in, “<span>Zkoz’th setu zkos A ufut suulul ze vsek, zkosvth</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just jealous!” he shot back. However, he accepted the burgundy walking coat that Lyude slipped off his own shoulders. “So, finally decided to show up? And just in time for your party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas ignored the jab. “I got caught up in something.” He suddenly realized that his arm had never dropped from where it held the kid close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayme noticed him noticing. “Hey, wait, is that a—oh, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dog</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not mine,” he sighed, opening the coat slightly to check her temperature, which was much improved, “I found her on a beach and haven’t found her a family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You took an infant through Gomeisa’s peaks?!” In a flash, Lyude was huddled in close to inspect her. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was a military man, used to rescuing civilians from monster attacks and the like. “She seems to have recovered as well as one could expect, but you should take her to the healers anyway—my observations are based upon desert nights and are surely not as useful as a native Wazni’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two poked their heads over his shoulder just in time to see the kid open her eyes. She sniffled miserably until she caught sight of Folon, whereupon she wiggled in her swaddling cloth. “Merm!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s racist,” Kalas told her, though she may have just assumed that any blue man was him. He explained, “She likes </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Mermaid In the Eye</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If you know any versions that Papa didn’t teach me, feel free to share.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Little Kalas, the sadsack dad!” Folon crowed, though he motioned for a turn carrying her, “How about Uncle Folon tells you the best version? What do you say…?” He trailed off expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the course of the painful pause, all eyes gradually landed on Kalas, including those of the bodyguards and various eavesdroppers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asked, a little annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her name…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, she’s not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squinting at him, Ayme asked, “So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘So’ what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! You’ve been taking care of her! You’re telling me you haven’t even named her yet?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she’s not mine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that even—Giacomo told us you named Fee!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “I got bored when he didn’t talk and quizzed myself on the skeletal system. He couldn’t say ‘femur’ right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A vos’z kuraufu aey…</span>,” she muttered, then turned to the snickering Folon, “<span>Osl kkoz otu aey roybkasb oz?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas… and Femur!” he cackled, the kid giggling along, “The dynamic, god-slaying duo!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘<span>Thku aths’z sasu’... aey tuorra otu o lyskothth</span>,” Ayme continued to rant under her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, I get it!” Kalas snapped, scooping the baby back from the blue hyena, “She needs a name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Nasorra, ku buzth az.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt twinged as he stared at the kid. He should’ve named her. He should’ve done so as soon as it became clear that she hadn’t come from the locality. He knew that. He just….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—what? You mess up?” Folon snorted, “It’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span>, dipshit, no one could mess that up.” He paused for effect. “Unless you’re actually planning on naming her ‘Femur’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although he didn’t seem to disagree, Lyude chided his betrothed softly for being rude. Then he turned to Kalas and asked nervously, “That… isn’t what you’re planning, is it, Kal—” His words died by way of a small, gasping choke.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Couldn’t be worse than Lord ‘Misfortune’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought as realization dawned on their faces. He tried not to hold it against them as he slipped the child back inside his coat and resumed the trek to the palace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few awkward apologies and an even more awkward walk, and the three split off to return to their quarters. Kalas tried to apologise himself, but the words caught in his throat and he merely nodded a goodbye. Shortly thereafter, he was whisked here and there by palace staff—a visit to the healers, a rehash of his argument with Barnette, visiting a supposedly inconsolable White Dragon—who, he noted sourly, was giddier than he’d ever seen her. Then, at long last, he and the kid were alone in his guest room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cold, cavernous room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt stark, regardless of the reality of the decor. He suspected, given the size, that Barnette had set him up in the consort’s chambers, a suspicion that only grew when he noticed that it wasn’t a room but a suite, equipped with a receiving room, bedroom, dressing chamber, and bath. By the time he noticed, his guide was long gone and no staff would allow him to quietly slink into lesser lodgings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to speak to the regent, Lord Kalas. I haven’t the authority to make such a decision,” said the young maid who’d taken to following him his last few attempts, polite but firm in her obstruction of the doorway, “I can have her informed that you wish to speak with her, but Lady isn’t due to rise for some time. Might you take your rest while you wait?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to tell her,” he accused even as he was led away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most certainly not,” she agreed pleasantly, “Sleep well, Your Lordship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least she didn’t insist on helping him change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The luxury of nightclothes wasn’t unknown to him—</span>
  <em>
    <span>thanks, Melodia</span>
  </em>
  <span>—but there was a world of difference between the light smock appropriate for the cool-leaning Miran climate and the heavy nightgown favored by Wazni nobility. As individual beds were more common amongst the upper class, shared body heat was replaced with a loose wool garment and cap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The specimen provided was a deep, dark, heathered blue with a keyhole neckline and thick brocade stripe down the center. The pattern took him a moment to place as a variation of one that had decorated Xelha’s clothing. Three crosses were layered in a snowflake-esque shape: a small, rounded light blue encased by a larger, darker one, whose geometric lines wouldn’t look out of place on a quilt. The third was red with flared ends and set diagonally behind the pair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran his finger around the border of the design, scowl crumbling away. It wasn’t worth the effort of caring.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He awoke to a faceful of Mizuti.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—more careful,” he heard Savyna say dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little late for that,” he drawled back, checking to make sure the Kid hadn’t gotten squashed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Kid was fine. She was even awake. Staring at him. Judging him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti heard that Kalas be raising a babe and yet not be knowing her name!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “You’ve seen Lyude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Savyna clopped into view on an impressive set of heels. Her dress was very similar to the one she’d worn to stake Lyude’s claim. “He thought you might need a ‘gentle nudge’ to attend the festivities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he sent you?” He began to roll his eyes but noticed a hint of hurt in her expression. “Sorry, I meant it as a joke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clearly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word was clipped. Not hurt, then, but angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he said again, wanting nothing more than to sink into his sheets. Miles upon miles upon miles of sheets, closed like a bud overhead. Twisting, twisting, ‘til he was squeezed out to their full length. He could almost feel the sensation of the bed and floor swiveling independent of the items upon them, though when he succumbed to curiosity, they were, of course, still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He listened to a full minute of Mizuti talking to him before he realized he hadn’t been paying any attention at all. Or, if he had, the words had tumbled right back out of his overstuffed head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Savyna’s hand on his scapula that halted the unseen spinning. Gazing at the wall ahead of them, she steered him out of bed towards the dressing room, where a splendid set of summoner’s garments were draped on and around a mannequin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the while, she was speaking. “It’s been six hours since you arrived. In thirty minutes, there will be a ceremony presenting us to the attendees. You are not required to speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it.” With Mizuti’s help, he squirmed into the lower layers of robes and furs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have four hours to rest or do whatever else you need. Then the banquet starts. You’ll be seated at the queen’s table between Barnette and Larikush. The rest of us will be there also. Light conversation with your tablemates is advised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The overcoat billowed out around him, needing to be buckled in place on the arms and torso. He was beginning to see why the small, agile Mizuti was sent alongside Savyna, though that also meant that everyone knew what he’d be wearing before he did. He was jealous of Mizuti, who either was not told to tidy up or someone in the chain of command had recognized the futility of enforcing a dress code on them. ‘Both’ seemed the likeliest answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The banquet is scheduled to continue for five hours, though yesterday’s went on for seven. After, there will be a memorial for those who fell in the final battle. You’re strongly encouraged to participate in their eulogy, but not required to speak regarding anyone but Xelha. There will be a brief ceremony at the start where we will symbolically share food with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed. “Anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She eyed him with a sly quirk to her lips. “A parade.” She released the magna essence of a map detailing the route.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A route which the longer he studied, the more it became apparent that he was being encouraged to ditch. It followed a needlessly sinuous path—difficult to accomplish in the wide, straightforward streets of Cursa—and frequently passed by service tunnels and low roofs. It would be easy to position himself beside one of his taller friends and disappear into the snow. The only downside he could see was that he couldn’t call his wings without tipping off the crowds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like fun,” he replied at last.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“—Grand Summoner, Kalas, son of Giacomo, son of Georg!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having learned from the (quite literal) trip to the steps of the palace, he let his wings carry him, the excess cloth falling into an elegant train. It was probably designed that way. Among the many other features that made it impractical for a real pilgrimage was a jeweled headdress styled after the one he’d worn (the pearls weren’t so bad but the emerald ‘leaves’ refracted light directly into his eyes) and the sheer weight (ray-moo became more reclusive after the Descent, so the comparatively heavier blue chocobo feathers had to be used).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas alighted upon the space the others had left for him on the landing. He promptly tuned out the rest of Barnette’s speech in favor of staring at the new installation on the wall opposite him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The finest ice sculptors in Wazn had been commissioned to create statues celebrating the heroes of the Eternal Calm. The result had been unveiled on the first day of the festival. Kalas was relieved to have missed it, though at least then no one would be staring at him as he struggled to control his affect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fountain basins were added to either side of Kaffaljidhma’s gate, the bottom tier of a series of sconce platforms. At the top was Xelha poised atop a spherical display, left hand on her heart and right resting the pommel of the Sword of the Heavens. His own statue was on bended knee to her right, grasping the hilt with his left hand and a bunch of feathers in the right. Water arced out of her mouth and heart, his own spout on his left shoulder. On closer inspection, both their eyes were ‘weeping’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his side, the water was led down the play of his cape to sluice into Melodia’s waiting hands, then follow his grandpapa’s staff down to the basin below. On hers, the left side of the sphere underfoot cascaded over the edge of their shared platform, only to be caught by Mizuti’s elbow. The path fanned out as it reached their chakrams, other arm, the Celestriad, and other such shifts in form. Its next stop was Lyude and Savyna, the former cupping his hands in the flow for birds both stone and flesh, the latter supporting his arms at the elbow. Gibari crouched underneath on lovingly rendered calves and thighs, more so than the dragoon’s garb would necessarily show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd applauded uproariously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to find a familiar face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he succeeded it was due to their dispersal into the streets, only those with business in the palace remaining. Kalas felt nauseous at the thought of joining the throngs outside, nor did he feel up to Lolo’s company, and so he took the Kid back from Catranne and to his rooms he went. Mizuti trailed after, this time accompanied by Papa, and the two stayed only long enough to help him undress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four hours on the dot and Gibari was there to wake him, again with Mizuti playing the role of page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feast had no sooner begun than Papa leaned back to speak to him around a beveled tower of gingerbread balls, deviled quail eggs, and sweetbreads. “It’s been some time, boy. I heard about what you did for Pherkad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, nudging his carving knife out of reach of the Kid. “Hey, you’re the boss when it comes to this stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The curl of his pupil followed the motion back to the bundle in Kalas’ arms, then up to study his face. “Have you been getting enough sleep?—parenthood is no easy task.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not mine.” The response was automatic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One could say the same of yourself and I.” He raised a surgeon-steady hand towards the Kid. “May I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Kalas’ nod, he tickled her nose, making her laugh. “She seems a cheerful one… perhaps ‘Felicity’?” His words were thankfully free of the judgement others had expressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… a nice name, I guess,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you any ideas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Happiness’ is better than ‘Misfortune’.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But somehow it still didn’t sit right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his left, Barnette was levitating a platter of braised seal and peaches clear, leaning in herself. “If not linguistic meaning, what of sentimental? A name of a loved one, perhaps, or something that reminds you of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has merit,” Papa agreed, “‘Tibia’ sounds pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Papa!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few places down, Lyude made an alarmed noise and pounded his beaus’ backs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnette looked confused but persisted nevertheless. “Oftentimes we name our children in remembrance or based on looks—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not ‘Xelha’,” he snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She backed off, but triumph shone in her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been her goal? Getting him to admit he saw Xelha in the Kid’s eyes? That strangers had remarked upon her resemblance to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> noticed. It had become more obvious as she aged. That wheat blonde hair was in a painting of Xelha’s great-grandmother. The gold beneath her brown eyes, which were round, downturned, and protruding like his. Her mouth took on the same annoyed twist when peeved and her snores held a familiar rumble. And sometimes when she looked up at him through her pale eyelashes, he swore he saw a knowing glint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Papa wrested Kalas’ knife from the Kid, easy now that her grip had weakened. She burst into furious tears, giving Kalas the excuse he needed to duck away. By the time Ayme hunted him down to drag him back, the topic had shifted to Gibari’s upcoming wedding.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>No fish?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wondered as Barnette set down a bowl of rice before the priest, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I guess the smell would spoil the mood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she’d stepped back, it was his turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He uncorked the wine. It was a wonder the small </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop!</span>
  </em>
  <span> could echo so, given just how many people were crammed into the Endmost Bethel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Papa’s jaw creaked with every new body. If even one person coughed, he had no doubt that the doctor would quarantine the entire room on principle, festivities be damned. When the crowd’s eyes drifted away, he could be seen furiously recording data in a thick green journal, the beautiful Al Zhani script a cramped shorthand. He looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a way Kalas had never seen before.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The priest held out a crystal goblet inlaid with gold and platinum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas focused on the glug of the brew and its spicy odor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tried to think of a eulogy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xe-Xelha was….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A hero</span>
  </em>
  <span>, everyone said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Master of Aeons,</span>
  </em>
  <span> they called her. Her Royal Majesty, the Final Ice Queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without meaning to, a bark of a laugh burst from his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted to be ‘just Xelha’. She would hate this crap.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His throat closed. Teeth bared. Glared at the goblet, thought about letting it overflow on purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the last second, he stopped the flow. It took several attempts to re-cork the bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Say something, you idiot! Anything!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But the words wouldn’t come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t even step back, for his body had locked into place. His ears were ringing, but not so badly he couldn’t make out his audience’s unease at his back. His fingers curled to pick at his nailbeds.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to say something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to say something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to say something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How long have I been standing here?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Lordship?” the priest whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas stalked back to the blue petals that would return him to Wazn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Kalas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything—did something happen?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His old winglet used to conduct cold something awful. The flight was still numbingly cold, but he was able to navigate to reach Kaffaljidma’s steps before his heart gave out on him. From there, it was easy to sneak past the various patrols and servants and slip into his rooms, whereupon he tore off his clothes without regard to their well-being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Papa closed the door quietly behind him and placed the Kid on an armchair. Wordlessly, he helped Kalas gather what few belongings he’d left in the suite, demanding only a teary-eyed embrace as a farewell.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Just a quick errand,” she’d said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t take more than an hour,” she’d said, “And that’s if you’re dragging your heels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he was being completely fair, Kalas would admit that, under normal circumstances, Anna would be completely right. The fiends that called the Cloud Passage home had not taken well to the lower altitudes—too warm, too dense—and thus erred on the side of caution where travelers were concerned. It had never been safer to travel the rosy mists above the Lesser Celestial River.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem was the competition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diadem had Descended to the northeast of the Nusakan Thornpeaks and, true to her name as Brethren, Pieda had kicked up quite the commotion. The former island was part of the tallest, largest mountain range on the Earth, the Greater Celestial River winding off from Nashira through the Athawr Hinterlands. The combination meant that the most aggressive species from all connected regions had quickly realized the bounty of prey that awaited. Even then, the new fiends weren’t much more of a threat to an accomplished traveler like Kalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it was the helmer that was making a nuisance of itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like its gormer and zelmer cousins, the helmer was a disembodied head roiling with flames. Unlike the others of its family, it was the size of an airpod and pink, which was why he didn’t notice it napping when he went to capture a cloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worst of all? It didn’t care about the interruption, the Kid just looked like breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although clouds made for a soft landing, the angle at which Kalas was forced to pitch himself pulled something in his back. He couldn’t even roll off the momentum, as that would mean crushing the baby on his back. Instead he scuttled forward on elbows and toes ‘til he felt the heat above recede.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fhaaaaahhhh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature’s inhale meant he had but moments to pick a direction and </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chose straight up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just in time—the paralyzing gas was spent uselessly below him as he wheeled about into a steep dive, sword imbued with flames of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The helmer dodged. And, while he hurried to regain a defensive stance, it chomped again at the Kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cried out. A hit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unwilling to risk tearing whatever skin it had hold of, Kalas reversed his grip and stabbed backwards, not daring to shift until he felt its weight fall away. It wasn’t until he heard a tearing sound that he realized the truth:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The helmer had bitten through one of the straps of his sling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He completed turning just as the Kid rolled off the edge of the clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He caught her before she hit the water, but only barely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wings thoroughly soaked, he stashed them away and treaded water. It was all that he could do to keep afloat in the rapids. If he hadn’t spent so much time in Balancoire’s canals and sewers growing up, he probably would’ve been pulled under. As it was, the frigid water was bound to sap away his strength sooner rather than later.</span>
</p><p><em><span>When did Anna say the boats went out?</span></em> <em><span>Dammit, I need to start listening to smalltalk.</span></em></p><p>
  <span>“Help!” he tried anyway, “Help!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his third call, he got a mouthful of kelpy water, too cold for his throat to properly convulse. He cast about mana like a spice shaker—hasty, clumsy, desperate—in hopes of commanding the local pyreflies. However, the cold lancing through to the depths of his core disrupted his focus, resulting in ice magic instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to die here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he realized, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me and the Kid. I’m the worst thing that could’ve happened to you…!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He mustered what strength he could to place her on one the ice sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was dashed to pieces in the wild water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hiccupping, she bobbed out of reach. One bob. Two. Three. And sank.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, no, no…!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The river tore them apart, snarled his limbs, choked his vision—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Waaaaaohhhhhh~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Pebbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, ‘pebble’ implied roundness. It was a round word, like ‘bubble’ or ‘soap’. Rubble, maybe? Or gravel?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas shook off the daze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kid, Kid, where are you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She was a short distance away, cozy in the nest of a friendly cloudgull, which held a flower in its beak for the child to suckle nectar from. There was a pile of depleted blooms at its feet. As soon as he shifted towards it, the gull spooked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wiping the vivid pollen from her cheeks, he scanned first for injuries, then for landmarks. To his surprise, he was on the shore of the shoopuf dock, where he’d first met Lyude. He was also miraculously dry, inland, and free of sniffles.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I heard the Great Whale… could he have…? But why now?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The first of the weddings was as lovely as a royal treasury could provide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was held in Castle Elnath, of course, though the king chose to break tradition by staging it outside of the throne room. Instead it was held on the bridge connecting the room to the rest of the palace, where the blushing clouds could give their blessing to the happy couple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas had by then seen Ladekahn in his kingly raiments several times, but his wedding garb was on a different level. The only armor visible was an engraved silver breastplate, which disappeared beneath a light navy overgown and a shoulder sash of white ruffles. Beneath the overgown were two more layers: cerulean with a black border and a goldenrod undergown. The latter was hidden save for bunching against the floor and a small collar that sprouted from the breastplate. Rather than sleeves, there was diamond mesh that hugged the arms in their entirety, the ends covered by the white ruffles of fine black gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of the humble circlet he usually favored, the king wore a crown better indicative of his station. The same mix of red and blue agate cubes comprised the band and arch, but that was where the similarities ended. The stones continued into a nose guard and hoop ‘earrings’ that dangled beside his ears. On the opposite side, silver, oak leaf-esque tines curled parallel to the black velvet cap in the same manner as a snail spiral. A string of pearls draped between the tips save for the gap directly in front. The same was true of a series of four-pointed platinum stars, which joined at the band, the nadir of the pearls, and lowest swells of the leaves. An ankle-length veil of the same color as the undergown issued from the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crown wasn’t the only appearance of agate. In addition to large, ovular samples at the root of the nose, the center of the stars, and the clavicle, they patterned a number of hems. The arm holes of the overgown and their single band of the same alternating color scheme were the most subtle. Five bands made up the belt and the border of the middle gown was itself bordered by a band on either side. Perfect squares of black were formed by those laid horizontally, particularly vivid blue ovals in the center of each row. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most impressive of all, however, was the lower hem of the overgown; somewhere there was a clever modiste who had managed to seamlessly line each mellow pleat with jagged cuts of white agate geode, all without affecting the organic flow of the cloth. It was hard to tell where one geode ended, as the bands of color had been lined up exactly. If not for Kalas’ proximity and the play of light, he’d have thought it was metal thread. To further show off their skill, the hemline was half a leg higher in the front, gradually lengthening to just above the ankles. The effect was echoed by the glove ruffles, which were longer on the underside. The final touch was the royal seal in the form of a pendant hanging from the belt and patterning the veil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari, by contrast, wore a much simpler set of gowns in the royal colors, which picked up the slightest breeze. According to Anna, it was part of Diademi tradition—there were two weddings (or more, if one’s heart was so shaped), one for each betrothed to enter the other’s family. Ladekahn, by the end of the ceremony, would clothe his groom in a garment taken from his own body, symbolic in the sharing of both possessions and heat. They would then take the royal ferry to Nashira, where Gibari would do the same. The second ceremony was to be smaller, limited to friends and family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, the gossipy nobles clustered behind Kalas cast no doubts on the validity of Gibari as a consort. Instead, they engaged in a hushed but furious debate over jewels and heirs. Most seemed to think they would adopt a bright youngster to groom, the rest spitting out the names of plausible surrogates like they were digging into a particularly seedy melon. The only one he directly recognized was Anna (who was summarily shot down, as pregnancy would impact her ability to bartend.) He also heard a couple names that followed Palolo’s family’s naming patterns, which he was relieved to hear met with the appropriate level of fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They silenced themselves when Ladekahn loosened his belt, stepped out of the overgown, and slipped it over Gibari’s head. A page approached with a cushion bearing the consort’s crown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The band remained the same as its partner’s. As did the arch, save for the base flaring into an arrowhead of silver. The cap was covered entirely in white pearls, though bits of deep blue could be seen in the few small cracks. Combined with the arrowhead shapes curling out of the band like salmon, it gave the impression of river spray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her late Majesty’s Silver Jubilee crown!” someone cooed, sparking a series of groans and coin clinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Nashiran wedding wasn’t much different, for all that it took place on the river in the regional dress. Still, the lowering sun only made the atmosphere lighter, Ladekahn eagerly helping Gibari fit him in a brightly beaded macrame overrobe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smack him good, ‘Kahn!” Palolo yelled through cupped hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king grinned and did just that, the newlyweds gesturing rudely at their longtime friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the kiss broke off, Gibari grabbed his husband’s waist with both hands and swung into a reel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The twinge of melancholy in Kalas’ heart couldn’t find hold as he watched Corellia and Lolo prance around one another, each successful step a minor miracle. Rodolfo and Anna swung briefly together, knees high, then paired off with Mizuti’s father and Woodfellah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He himself was pulled in by Peachy, who insisted she was there in place of her lord and lady, despite having gotten her own invite. Almarde thanked him as they passed, Papa’s face ran with joyous tears, Catranne stomped his foot in retaliation for a stumble, and he finished the dance with a grumpy fisherman who openly declared his disdain for both grooms, despite making the most generous speech during toasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palolo had to be led away by his son, as </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> toast meandered into the raunchy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just as Kalas was readying to leave—the Kid was overtired and cranky, which meant she would punch his shoulder ‘til either they were cuddled up or she passed out on her own—when Ladekahn approached him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even having attended both weddings, he wasn’t quite sure where he stood with the king. They hadn’t spent much time together, after all, and through much of it Kalas had been actively working against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladekahn seemed to pick up on his reservations, for he said, hands raised placatingly, “Peace, Kalas; I merely wanted to ask a favor of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Shoot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inclined his head gracefully, continuing, “Well, I suppose I should say ‘fa</span>
  <em>
    <span>vors</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. One I ask as a king, the other as your friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You going to ask me or what?” Kalas dared shoot him a grin, which seemed to be exactly what was needed to put the other at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From some unseen pocket, Ladekahn drew out a trio of magnus. Two contained middling journals, the third a collection of letters. “I’ve heard that Sagi’s section of the archive is lacking. Gibari and I wrote down what we could remember of his visit to Diadem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you want me to play delivery boy?” he pretended to grumble as he accepted the package, “So if this is the personal request….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladekahn bowed his head. “As the leader of this nation, it is my duty to ask, but you need not hold yourself to answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas nodded him on. When someone danced around the point like that, it meant one of two things: Xelha or the White-Winged Darkness. The circumstances of his acquisition of an as-yet-unnamed toddler was rapidly becoming a third option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my understanding that you were—when the Dark Brethren were near, you could….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took pity on the floundering king. “I could sense their presence. I didn’t always realize it was them but….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...I’ll never forget the way they made me feel.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladekahn released a breath. “It’s been a year. If the Brethren have truly vanished from this world, then surely the traces of their power would begin to wane.” He looked Kalas directly in the eyes. “For the sake of my people, I need closure. I need to be confident that their taint has been expunged from Diadem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re certain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth was dry, but he felt no hesitance. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right—I’m probably it for people who can tell, and it’s not like I’ve been going out of my way to follow up on everything that’s happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More the opposite. Kalas liked to think he’d learned his lesson, at least a little bit. If nothing else, he knew better than to dwell on painful memories as he had in the past. He was sure the others would say he was overdoing it, but that was a risk he was willing to take. After all, if he allowed himself to stew in his misery, how long would it take for him to fall into old habits again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladekahn was speaking again. Kalas missed most of what was said, though it wasn’t hard to glean from the key he was handed. Untarnished silver despite clear age, as well as an intricate handle that, when viewed from a certain angle, formed the royal crest of Diadem.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It must be to get to the Shrine of the Winds.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Kalas. I mean it, from the bottom of my heart.” In that moment, he looked more the yearling than a storied king.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas clapped his shoulder, flashed a tired smile, and, in the same soft rasp he used with the Kid, said, “Go enjoy your wedding night. I’ll write you what I find, if anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladekahn silently grasped his forearm in reply, smiling back.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Unlike the last time he traversed the path to the Cloud Vents, it was notably lacking in corpses. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of intruders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So if I go back to Nashira and ask the king, he’ll tell me everything’s peachy,” Kalas said flatly, well aware of the hypocrisy in </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> taking offense to someone sidestepping the rules.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We be here for the same purpose, aye? To strip away the gods’ contamination?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strange hearing Mizuti’s speech pattern paired with monotone delivery, almost as strange as a party of thirty or more Earth Children, all masked, loitering around a restricted area. In such a large group, there would usually be some variation in headgear; some favored the full ensemble, others wore their masks on the hip like Mizuti, still others would wear the associated accessories—hoods and caps and fasteners—on their lonesome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not what I asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great Kalas, you should join us!” It was a teen hovering near the shrine entrance, his humanoid mask baring two rows of teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mo—!” the apparent leader started to hiss, head ticking briefly to eye Kalas, “Brother, he be ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lord</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kalas’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fought down a snort. It was obvious that the focus on title was meant as code, due not only to the strange emphasis but the fact that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> known as ‘The Great Kalas’ to many Children of the Earth. To say nothing of the ‘brothers’ and their differing accents. In fact, taking a closer look, there was something… off about their clothes as well. Although he was far from an expert on Earth Child fashion, he’d gotten familiar with regional styles in his travels, and there was some indefinable quality to the patterns and cuts that struck a discordant note. As if each article was a pastiche made from incomplete research.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something’s fishy here, and ‘Mo’ is the monger.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brother,” protested Mo, “he can be trusted, I know it! With his own hands, he—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leader made a sharp motion and the youth went silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Own hands’? Too vague. Time for some theatrics. It doesn’t count as manipulation if they tried it on me first, does it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-oh,” Kalas stuttered, just enough that he sounded disappointed, “I guess I’ll just wait ‘til you leave then.” He sighed, swinging the Kid around to his front so he could slump against the wall. “I don’t know why I was so—I shouldn’t have tried to push you guys around. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As expected, she was upset at being moved away from her favorite spot and began making noises like an angry bird. Bouncing her to disguise the motion of his hand, he ran a knuckle through a compact he kept hidden in her blankets for just such an occasion: ointment mixed with lemon. This he rubbed against his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry to use you as a prop, Kid, but this is just too juicy to pass up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When he looked back up, it was with tired red eyes, exactly as one would expect to see on a single father raising an infant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, most of the Earth Children relaxed, at least a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Think not of it, Lord Kalas,” said the leader.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pretended not to notice the crowd’s discomfort with his continued presence. After a few minutes of him shushing the Kid, they seemed to accept that he wasn’t going anywhere. They turned back to their task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And began chanting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he couldn’t clearly hear the words, they felt ancient, like a forgotten language. Whatever their intentions, they stopped before he noticed any particular change to their surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they stood clear, Kalas entered the shrine just long enough to confirm that he couldn’t feel the Brethren, then hurried out just as quickly. To his surprise, the Earth Children hadn’t moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You couldn’t pass it up either, huh, ‘brother’?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave what he hoped was a friendly smile and gestured back along the trail. “You guys coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fell into step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mo scurried to Kalas’ side. “I heard that you had a daughter, Your Lordship, but I thought they were just rumors!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, poking the grumpy bundle. “Hear that, kid? You’re famous!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Kid opened one eye, unimpressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s the mother, if I may ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to tell the usual edited truth when he got an idea. “She doesn’t have one. The Great Whale gave her to me.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the leader for a reaction. Was satisfied to see his step falter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The… Whale did, say you?” Surprisingly, the leader joined them. In his position, Kalas would have let Mo flounder in order to gather information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Told me to protect and cherish her before He swam away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the man’s face was visible, he imagined his eyes would be as bulging as those of his fish mask. “Lord Kalas be spoken to by His Holiness?! Fortuitous indeed!” First he, then the rest of his party, sketched the Eye of the Whale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mo glanced back and forth between Kalas and his boss. To his credit, he wasn’t entirely unsubtle; Kalas might have missed it if not for his paranoid tendencies. “Did the Great Whale give you any other tasks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” laughed Kalas, the group’s increased interest grating on him, “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mo gasped, “Then—then you really—?!” He didn’t even try to hide his wordless appeal to authority.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fish Head stopped him with a single gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the walk was spent recounting a heavily sanitized version of his pilgrimage, interspersed with question after question. While there was no particular theme to those asked, the querents’ body language gave away their interest each time. They mostly seemed concerned with his rejection of the Brethren and the battles within Sin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their paths diverged again in Sheliak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Summoner?” said the leader in parting, “We be meeting again soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They offered each other the Eye of the Whale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t wait,” Kalas replied, watching them until they disappeared down the stairs.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The instant they arrived at the manor, Peachy was in charge. It didn’t matter that she’d been gone a week. Staffers need only glance her way and she seemed to know what they needed, plowing through multiple tasks in a whirlwind of papers, magnus, and a firm hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bemused, he made himself scarce. Before he attended to Ladekahn’s other favor, he had business of his own in the Calbren Manor. No one disturbed him as he roamed the halls in search of Melodia’s room, which, when he found it, was completely unguarded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pulse of fear shot through him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if someone gets it in their head to attack her? What the hell are you doing, Calbren?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing forcefully through the door—not even locked!—he was met with an empty room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had furnishings, of course, as fine as any ruler’s, but otherwise flaunted its disuse. The crisp white sheets of the four poster bed, the doused lights, the orderly vanity—nothing appeared to see more use than a guest room. The only proof that it belonged to the lady of the house was Milliarde’s indecipherable smile from a burgundy frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stepped in further, he noticed one item and one item alone that was out of place: a piece of vellum resting below the oil painting. It was embossed with the welcoming curls of the Calbren seal, specifically Melodia’s more rigid personal variation, which was tinted with light-handed watercolor. Unfolding it, he recognized her refined penmanship in olivine ink. It read:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Grandfather,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re reading this now, it means that I’ve made my decision and it will be some time before we meet again. I’m sorry to have left without a farewell for a second time, but I feared I would cause us both more suffering should I release my thoughts without first finding the words to explain them to myself. I do believe our friend is right when they say that I will find myself in the work….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please don’t blame yourself for my choosing to act with such subterfuge—I know with all my heart that you would have given me your blessing, no matter your misgivings... or the loneliness it would impart. You have always put my desires above your own, and I cannot bring myself to force that choice on you again. I hope to visit in a season or so, though the uncertainty is a welcome change from the way things have been since that terrible night!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thinking of you,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Melodia</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.S. If you happen to see a little black birdie, do let him know. He’s an incurable snoop and I’m sure he’ll overreact if he gets his information secondhand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas didn’t notice his companion until Calbren let out a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She left just after the start of the new year with that masked friend of yours,” he explained softly, stepping close enough to skim the letter again, “The Great Mizuti offered our dear Melodia the chance to help the helpless. They left together in the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He folded it back into neat thirds and returned it to its owner. “Yeah, that sounds like them, alright. Sorry for snooping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I should have sent the news with Peachy.” He sighed again. “With as much as you’ve travelled since the Descent, I wasn’t sure that you would receive an invitation in time to attend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got mine at the festival.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas wasn’t sure where he stood with the duke, and the ensuing silence didn’t help him figure it out. It grew too uncomfortable to maintain pseudo-eye contact and he dropped his gaze to the side of Calbren’s cravat pin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Looks like the Heartenbrace fixed you right up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true. Although his face was still lined with age and grief and all they entailed, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, rosy with attentive eyes. His wings were neatly tucked away in his heart for the first time since they’d met. Most of all, Calbren had been standing for more than a minute without any sign of strain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, his head shook. “Some things can never fully recover… but it is enough. I’m grateful for the chance I—</span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>—have been given.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Deja vu, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought sourly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas decided it was time to leave. Nodding stiffly, he said, “Well, it was good to see you, but I’ve got some errands to run. Ladekahn gave me some stuff for the archives….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d made it four steps before Calbren made a noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of which….” He swayed closer with a pair of magnus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas raised an eyebrow. “You wrote something too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not yet,” Calbren smiled, “But I found some old letters. Correspondences, as well as a few that were never sent. And… if I may ask a favor of my own…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Might as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second magnus contained an empty photo album.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He accepted both, tucking the letters with the rest of the archival materials and pulling the album back into the physical world. Leather-bound, gold engravings, bronze corner protectors. Flipping through, he confirmed that it was completely empty. Hundreds of pages with nothing to show for it. He guiltily thought of the camera Melodia had gifted him, which had yet to see use.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to expand the museum,” explained Calbren, “And Melodia told me you were skilled with cameras. I would very much like it if you were to provide some materials. For a stipend, of course!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Kalas could do more than give a light-headed nod, Calbren launched into an animated description of his plans:</span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>No particular subject matter, as long as it was interesting, though records of major events, archaeological finds, contemporary culture, and zoology were of interest.</span></li>
<li><span>Personal delivery preferred, though mail would do in a pinch.</span></li>
<li><span>Send word of intended destination ahead of time and the monthly stipend could be mailed there.</span></li>
<li><span>If possible, interview locals regarding anything they deemed worthy of documentation.</span></li>
<li><span>Note the location of unusual finds.</span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>The agreement, farewells, and walk to the archive were unfocused as he boggled over the gil Calbren had strongarmed him into accepting. True, he could make ten thousand on a single photograph, but that would require finding a fiend rare enough that collectors would be interested, as well as managing a high quality shot. Easily staged photos of people and buildings? Those were chump change at best. Moreover, it wasn’t like there were many shops that allowed him to get away with paying full price to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his distraction, Kalas stubbed his toe against the step to the archive’s door.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When did I—whatever, this is too good to pass up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not long after, he christened the album with images of the Pilgrimage Archive, inside and out. It probably didn’t fit with what Calbren wanted, but every time he second-guessed the decision, Xelha’s words from that night were burrs to his doubts.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We have records from the War of the Gods, but so much more was left unwritten.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We can’t help but believe that what we know will last forever... the little things, things everyone knows, die with us.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Somewhere, someone got the name wrong. And then it stuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“This one’s for you, Xelha,” he said, just above a whisper, as he slipped the photo into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that was left was to fulfill his original task. But, like everything else he’d taken on recently, that, too, was just the start of something bigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><span>Luow Geldoblame</span></span>
  </em>
  <span>, the letter began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As did the next. And the next and the next until his knees were buried under the weight of mail addressed to the former emperor. The bulk were penned by Sagi, it seemed, who gave up writing just after heartwaste hit Balancoire. Those signed ‘Milly’ were replaced by ‘Milliarde’ within the first two years, which petered out soon thereafter. The text was equally cold, calling out questionable acts he’d performed in office.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How much of this bullshit could’ve been avoided if Geldoblame had gotten these?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Checking the dates, most were written in off-seasons, when Mira lost contact with her sister islands, but there would have been a number of opportunities to send them. None of what he skimmed gave any hints, at least that he could find. Just the kind of intrigue that his conscience wouldn’t allow him to dangle over his least favorite imperial’s head, such as references to an affair with Emperor Verus and a pamphlet entitled </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anue-NEW YOU: ‘Fairy’ Good Skin In 5 Easy Steps!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His best guess, based on the number of crossed-out phrases, rewordings, and platitudes that screamed discomfort across the language barrier, was that the two had struggled to find the right words again and again. Presumably enough time would pass that the letter became out of date, at which point the cycle began anew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t even be mad—his entire pilgrimage had been the same old song and dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing aggressively, he wrote down a list of things to photograph in Alfard.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kalas had written ahead, assuming that Geldoblame would condemn him to a bureaucratic obstacle course if he tried to drop in unannounced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Zkosv aey net zku neel</span>,” he said to his hosts, speaking Al Zhani solely because it would annoy them even more than Yevonese. While his Al Fhard wasn’t as good, he spoke it skillfully enough that he had no real excuse not to use it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Eyw truokywu ak ze kuwbu eyw gwezquw’k qesewogru pyukz,</span>” replied Skeed tartly. The rounded vowels tugged the rope of his scars. What was left of his nose moved with every word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude’s siblings had managed to survive the Brethren’s armies, though not unscathed. Aside from the humiliation of their titles relying upon the favor of their illegitimate half-brother, both were covered in evidence of terrible wounds. Skeed’s came from Fadroh’s ambush, where he’d been raked by claws within an inch of his life. Vallye, meanwhile, had been injured when the artillery cache her legion was guarding was targeted by particularly nasty Malperciac fiends. The supplies were hit, causing a chemical explosion. Her burn scars were widely varied in severity and one of her eardrums had ruptured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The well-dressed man to her right gave a cough. Kalas hadn’t bothered learning the name of her Diademi fiance, since, per the novella Lyude called a letter, the betrothal was the result of hierarchical incentive; Geldoblame, justifying his continued presence in the imperial court, had pushed the narrative that ‘exotic’ spouses were not only advantageous to the empire’s international prestige, they were fashionable as well. The birthplace of the consorts-to-be was cited with such frequency that Kalas had heard it several times before he had so much as disembarked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure if that said more about how Alfard viewed Azha or the rest of the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skeed was engaged as well, to an Earth Child named the Great Liling. Hailing from Zhaoyao, the largest city in the Gedao region southwest of Duhr, she was a natural choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zhaoyao was a short, easy voyage away from Mintaka, made easier by the islands between them—all that remained of the mountain range that had made up three quarters or more of Gedao. The geographical changes over the past millennium—in particular, the collapse of trench walls, extra landmass afforded by Malpercio’s petrified bodies, souvenirs Mira brought back from her extradimensional travels, and the ruins of Cor Hydrae—had resulted in unexpected coastlines when the Ocean returned. The Gedaon casualties had been much less than they could have been, thanks to Liling’s evacuation procedures. Even Kalas had known her name before they met, due to her ambitious plans to connect the islands and mainland via a series of bridges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem exhausted from your journey,” said Liling, the darting of her persimmon eyes at odds with her neutral tone, “and have another at the rising of the sun. Care you to retire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t even slightly tired, but he leapt at the chance anyway. There was enough bad blood in the room to drown an oliphant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, he lay awake as the siblings bickered into the wee hours. He could only guess at the content, the words almost entirely muffled by sound-proofing. Was it his presence? Lyude? Something else entirely?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at the window overlooking his bed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I could sneak out now. Be at Greater Mintaka by lunch. I could get away with it too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But that would create trouble for Lyude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so he rolled over and stared at the Kid through a single cracked lid. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I can think of a name before he yells at me again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It took a moment for Kalas to put a name to the face that greeted him at the gates of Greater Mintaka: Piscella, the leader of Azha’s street urchins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey netbez su!</span>” she playfully accused, punching his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing at his ‘wound’, he groaned, “<span>Bafu su o ktuov! Rothz zasu A thok aey, aey kutu vefutul as syl!</span>” He thought about teasing her for her current dirtiness, but he wasn’t sure that one brief meeting made them close enough, no matter how instant their connection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides which, it was clear that outside of the dusty construction site, she was bathing regularly. Her hair was visibly green, a cheerful golden shade to match the ochre of her skin. The matching iris crisply lined the curl of her pupil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>The, kkoz otu aey leasb zkath thalu en Nihal?</span>” he asked instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised and shook the empty pail in her other hand. Water droplets caught in the sun as they fell to the grit below. “<span>Sathzut Osbur leuths’z ruz valth kurd kazk zku kab thzynn, the ku tys uttoslth</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kyz kka Mintaka?</span>” he pressed. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe his grandfathers’ influence?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Azha bez nadul natthz</span>,” she shrugged, swinging her arms to clasp behind her. In the process, the pail came dangerously close to sending a small lizard flying, to its hissed discontent. “<span>Dryth, ku vos’z ruz Lyulu buz dythkul oteysl ka o kysvk en yddut-vtythz thkazzutth—ku Al Zhani thzavv zebuzkut!” She nudged him with her elbow and twirled back into the fray.</span>
</span></p><p>
  <span>“Heh. Fair enough,” he murmured to himself, checking the knot of the sling. Once he was sure it would hold, he shielded his eyes from the airborne grit and plunged into the slapdash cityscape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greater Mintaka, the youngest—and shortest-lived—of the Skyfolk capitals, gave the impression of a gutted fish. An engineering marvel of its own, there were parts of the Imperial Fortress left standing; these were surrounded by skeletal structures of brass and wood, supplemented by other metals and stone. Everywhere he looked, workers were hammering this, welding that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More interesting was the number of foreigners present. Some were clearly merchants, directing the movement of planks and produce. Others were helping with the rebuilding—burly Nashira dockhands, Komo Mai alumni wielding fire with more precision than a machine, witches darting through the sky on enchanted objects—brooms, carpets, whatever was available—to shower those below with snow. The glitterous flakes that reached Kalas, rather than freezing his desert-parched skin, were soothing, refreshing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(One flake landed on his neck and he was reminded of that night. As Melodia had noted long ago, the Ice Queen’s skin was unnaturally cold, even when they—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas shook the memory from his mind. There was no time for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was never time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there never had been.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The majority, however, appeared at first to be loitering. At least, until he picked up on the fact that they were scholars. Earth Children and Keepers, historians and archivists—they were working as consultants with architects and city planners. He guessed it was an effort to piece together an Al Fhard cultural heritage that, under imperialism and promachination, had been sacrificed on the pyre of progress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Eruption Theory?! Seriously?! Who the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> signed off on your tenure?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ad hominem, ad hominem! If you’ve nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>constructive</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Constructive?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> A pun does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> an argument make!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two professors squared off, the rest of their group ignoring them utterly, as if it had become a tired routine. As Kalas passed, he heard the sound of knuckles meeting flesh and an answering gust.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following Piscella’s periodic beckoning, he came upon the scene of Emperor Lyude, nary a sign of his rank save a few extra lapel pins, being set upon by a horde of children. He was no cleaner than anyone else at the worksite and even carried a lathe hammer, though he set it down before embracing the children. On a nearby sawhorse sat a spike maul, sledgehammer, tray of nails of varying sizes, canteen, and cloth-bound box.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t get a more iconic composition than this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He took the picture: the group kneeling in the bottom right, the sawhorse to the left, and the rebuilding efforts the backdrop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Enn!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Piscella’s sharp command, the younger kids scampered off, shrieking happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ju votunyr!</span>” Lyude called after them, face scrunched up with worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ok, vesu es—ku vsek eyt koa oteysl zkuthu vaslth en drovuth</span>,” she whined, plopping down on the end of the sawhorse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ju zkoz oth az soa—Kalas!</span>” Hurriedly brushing off the worst of the mess on his clothes, he met Kalas with open arms and a cheek that tasted faintly of oil. “<span>Az’th keslutnyr ze thuu aey oboas!</span>” He drew back a little. “<span>Aey osl…?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piscella!” the girl pouted, arms crossing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude tilted his head but kept up the encouraging smile. “<span>Ek, the aey sosul kut onzut eyt aeysb ntausl kutu</span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kyk?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Piscella, suuz zku Val</span>,” said Kalas, prying the cranky baby out of her spot. While the older girl cooed, he reluctantly met his friend’s disappointment. “<span>A thkuot A’fu juus zkasvasb! A bythz vos’z zkasv en osazkasb zkoz nazth.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyude nodded, like it was something he’d expected. “<span>An aey vkosbu aeyt sasl ojeyz thzoaasb zku sabkz, A’l ju setu zkos kodda ze kurd aey gtoasthzets</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey bythz kosz ze buz eyz en dodutketv</span>,” Kalas grinned, slyly jostling him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kkoz? Se, A sekz hutzoasra le sez—</span>” He broke off when he realized he was being teased, even returning the gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, Kalas ducked out from under his arm, waving as he made his way to the ‘palace’ and a far less appealing engagement.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When he was finally escorted into the study, Geldoblame met him at the door. With carefully neutral faces, they exchanged greetings, after which they settled in a pair of overstuffed chairs done in green jacquard. A tea platter was already set out for them to enjoy at their leisure. Kalas wasn’t surprised that the former emperor had requested a brew of the expensive cardamom spice, but it was paired with Melodia’s favorite tea snacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So far, so good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they had both taken a sip, he let the base rest in his cupped palms and said, “<span>Resp zasu, se kuu. Qek owu aey</span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Eq, ktowu su,</span>” Geldoblame drawled, though with less acid than usual, “<span>Aey’wu quwu net o wuokes; eyz kazq az zqus</span>.” Contrary to his opponents’ jabs at him being a ‘slob’, he dabbed his mouth frequently with a handkerchief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Qua, A’s sez reevasp new zweygru</span>.” As his hand hovered between a cheese scone and a fan of brioche finger sandwiches, he continued, “<span>Aey zqash A’l gwasp zqu Hal an A kok zwaasp ze puz ysluw aeyw khas? Les’z kewwa, sudz zasu O’rr ju kywu ze ju udzwo osseaasp</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed to put Geldoblame at ease. He motioned with his cup for Kalas to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A’s pykz quwu ze lurabuw kesu soar.</span>” In one easy motion, he drew the letters from their magnus and presented them with a flourish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as before, when Melodia taunted him with the knowledge of parents’ survival, Geldoblame’s humanity was on startling display. Betrayal, or something like it, was most prominent on his face. His hands jittered around the handle of the cup. At times it seemed he was ready to shred his friends’ final words to him, only to sigh, softly brush the indents left by his nails, and continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Kalas was rising to slip away, Geldoblame set down his current read and muttered, “<span>Aey suos new su zu nerrek as aeyw neezkzutk?</span>” He laughed, the sound small, bitter, self-loathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyed him with distaste. “<span>Zqu sozaesk qobu juus vyahh ze newpabu aey. Quw Pwohu ok kurr, osl Giacomo ak uspeaasp o qeyku owwukz</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ke? Aey’wu kzarr as tekuw—reehk rahu aey kas</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slammed the cup back in its saucer. A splash made it over the lip, pooling in the steep saucer. “<span>Zqak ak bahzewa ze aey?</span>!” Suddenly on his feet, he howled, “<span>Tosluwasp ze o sespwur’k kqask rukz ku hokz aey ze zqu kerbuk? Tok!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the former emperor continued his tirade, Kalas finished his tea and bowed. Against his will, he recognized himself in his enemy. And it was too much for him. He was glad he’d brought the Kid, as her crying gave him the excuse he needed to leave without getting an earful about manners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stronger man would have shown solidarity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stronger man would have used compassion to restructure an enemy’s worldview.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kalas wasn’t that man, nor was he Xelha; he didn’t have it in him to forgive Geldoblame or show him kindness, no matter that he’d lived the same struggle. Just being in the same room made him want to fall into bed and squirm like hooked bait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geldoblame’s mouth snapped shut.  He almost looked afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the tea,” said Kalas, shushing the Kid ‘til she listened. In the process of walking out, he paused, turned back, and added, “If it was me, I’d make a name for myself as the guy with the insider account of Lord Sagi’s pilgrimage and all that drama over succession. But that’s just me. It’s not like it’s any of my business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left without looking back once.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>With their primary concerns addressed and then some, K.E.S.U. had changed focus. To accommodate shifting populations, they transformed their headquarters into the only fully-submerged city in the world. It was largely constructed of interconnected rings with domes branching off, almost like a bangle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The road he was on, like most others in Vega, the residential district of Tarazed, was sealed in a clear tunnel. The few that had sprung a leak were closed off and used for pisciculture. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eat your heart out, Dithutlwa.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he was in the right place when he saw the whale-shaped ship moored to the side of one of the domes. That, and the familiar clutter encapsulated by the ‘front yard’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clutter continued into the cottage, which was more workshop than living space. It was split in two: a general living area on the ground floor and a loft serving as bedroom and study. Or so he assumed, as the walls were lined with stacks of unused furniture. The remaining pieces were used to house mechanical parts, notes, and salvage with no discernible organization.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So much for ‘no more commissions’.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And there, cheek planted against her desk, slept Lolo, Calca and Brina powered down at her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lo-Cid! What’s this I hear about a working model?” he called up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jerked awake, scattering blueprints in the process. “I swear I’m—’Lassie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flurry of green feathers, she dove into a hug, nearly knocking him over. “Did you come to see the submarine? Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot about the Kid!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than happy to pass over the bundle of mucus, he set about documenting history. As he navigated the piles, he asked, “So what’s with all this junk?” He nudged an old boot with his foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his left was a mountain of rusted broadswords, barnacle-laden barrels to the right. A rotten crow’s nest was draped with cloth—faded flags, tunics, sails, and the like. A chair was stacked with dirty glass bottles, some empty, others filled with liquids or vegetation. On the floor next to it were coins of silver and white gold. Through the tarnish he could make out imprints of squares, as well as reliefs of archers and crowned heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that? I’ve been picking up stuff when I’m out on test runs,” she shrugged, hopping up the stairs to show the Kid her dolls, “I hang onto it until the eggheads decide to drop by—do you know that most of this stuff predates the Age of the Gods?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whistled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If the ocean hadn’t been sealed away, I bet there wouldn’t be anything left of this stuff. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Running a finger along a bumpy halberd shaft, he picked up on her wording. “So some of it’s newer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, there’s a lot that fell from the Sky. Pilgrimages, you know?” She poked her head over the side of the railing. “Yeah, like that! Kodelle was pretty excited when she saw that—said it belonged to Lord Coatl. And that one over there is—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you say ‘Coatl’?” Heading snapping back to the previous find, Kalas almost tripped in his rush to examine it more closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not a halberd, as he’d thought at first glance, but a guisarme, the flame-shaped blade too pristine to be untouched by magic. It was formed of a plethora of copper layers, varying in hue, texture, and luster. Grasping the shaft, he marveled at the manner in which the metal came to life when in motion; the play of light gave the illusion of sparks and dancing fire. The joining was the mouth of a serpent, whose jeweled body wound around the length of the shaft. It was missing a handful of scales, but otherwise possessed a king’s ransom in precious stones of green, red, and yellow.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All those times trying to read that damn book, and here I am, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought in amazement, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha would’ve laughed at me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He hadn’t touched it, nor so much as glanced at Lord Coatl’s no-longer-so-humble space in the archive since losing her. A part of him was convinced that if he did, he would see her still sitting there, ancient words rolling from her tongue and briefly coloring her accent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In addition to the empty sockets, also missing were three chunks of metal just below the head. One remained, which appeared to be shaped as a wing, whilst the rest were reduced to nubs. The skin of his left shoulder crawled—it would never forget that sensation. Nor his ears the crunch of bone, the wet rip of muscle. The feel of a sword grasped with two sets of hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A name of a loved one, perhaps, or something that reminds you of them.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes prickling, he set the guisarme down and returned to collect the kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come visit again sometime,” said Lolo, the invitation sluggish as her attention instantly swung back to her blueprints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he closed the door, the kid made a strange burbling sound. She’d been doing it a lot lately, which he hoped was a good thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coatl?” he tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She picked her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Xiuhcoatl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter though; it felt like the right name. And that was good enough for him.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>After a brief visit to the Lava Caves—Brethren-free, as far as he could tell—Kalas got sucked into a fiend hunt. By the time he returned, feelers in hand, he was too tired of people to pay a visit to Gramps. He snuck back into Mintaka, boarded a liner at random, and spent the day sleeping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, missing the Sky, he lay on the deck and stared up into the stars. No expert, he pointed out the ones he recognized to Xiuhcoatl.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Waaaaaaooooooooh~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Song of the Great Whale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waaaooooh~!” the kid agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mock-glared at her. “If ‘whale’ is your first word, I’m disowning you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he brought them to the railing. The Whale breached in the near distance, quicksilver sparks hitting His belly as He rolled. Xiuhcoatl was, for once, quiet as they watched the display.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At every breach, stars fell around a twisting crescent moon, then both would melt back into the dark water. Though the pattern of the spray and weaving wave ridges did not repeat, there was a continuum to the rich grey and bold platinum, the commanding depth of an eggplant and faint ivory lametta waving the ripples on their way. Kalas felt small in a way both familiar and not; the Ocean’s call for obedience was that of a mother, impatient but kindly. The Sky above shyly grasped Her skirts and ducked behind, only to peek out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like a joining of heaven and earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Xelha,” he whispered. He couldn’t reach the water but cold flecks hit his hand from the boat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stung.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Drained of energy for close friends and strangers alike, Hassaleh seemed like the best option to visit. He’d no sooner set foot in Sheraton—Cujam?—than Wacho had him tucked under an arm and dragged off to deal with a rogue balloona. The creature had tougher skin than its kin and used it to raid the seed cache. A big problem when conservation efforts were still at a delicate phase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took three weeks to track down the cowardly fiend. Three weeks in the as-yet-untamed Nusakan Thornpeaks, which made his previous trip down them seem like a breeze. Everything looked the same, his skin was pricked all over, and Tik spent four days envenomed and vomiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, the three of them made a good team. Kalas and Tik were able to shift roles at a moment’s notice behind the solid wall that was Wacho. The natives knew how to negotiate the peaks, even when in uncharted areas. And Kalas’ ramshackle upbringing left him with a wealth of skills to deal with the unexpected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chance to throw himself wholeheartedly into his curiosity, guilt-free—it was just what he needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you just missed them!” said Odette, who’d arrived with a new batch of immigrants while they were out, “Melodia said to tell you—and I quote—‘stop fussing, you silly old raven’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Mizuti?” he asked, knowing full well they wouldn’t have held back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rocked the chair back on two legs, unaware of its owner creeping up behind her. “‘It not be good, worrying always! Go make an adventure’!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. “Sounds like them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggled in agreement, at least until Wacho threw her over his shoulder. “Hey, no fair!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Freeloaders don’t get to complain,” he barked, flipping her upside-down when she wiggled too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tik, save me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Like he’ll—Tik, why?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new addition sent them reeling out of Kalas’ sightline, which suited him just fine. He gulped down the last of his tea, rose, and sauntered out, calling, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucker! Back me up!” Wacho yelled, muffled by the floor and something falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas merely waved and kept going.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I need to get out of here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy his time in Sheraton—just being able to pass the kid off for awhile was great. She got the care of a professional and time with others her age, he got to flex his wings. And the company was exactly what he’d been craving. The brothers’ home near the Briarclock was comfortable... even when the orphans they cared for came back from their daily adventures, muddy and loud and grabby. Both hosts were handy in the kitchen and neither minded sharing their recipes. And, in a fit of industriousness, he’d interviewed them and other townsfolk regarding the settlement, in addition to his actual commission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was feeling antsy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Guess I got used to the road.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lava Caves had been miserable, yet exhilarating in the inherent challenge to photographing them. He had some ideas for shots taken just below the Cloud Passage, where the fringe would still be visible alongside the Lesser Celestial River. Alu’s irrigation system was an engineer’s fever dream and he wanted to see what became of Capella since the return of the sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel so lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to reenter when he saw a dim path to the side. Never one to skimp on curiosity, he followed it to the space behind the orphanage. A semi-open dome of thorns played hangar to a pair of skycraft, both of which bore the name </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterbean</span>
  </em>
  <span>. From what he could tell, Wacho was attempting to cannibalize parts into something resembling a functional ship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear this thing is cursed,” Kalas muttered to himself, feeling for dents in the helms. Eyes narrowed, he sifted through the holster devoted to magnus that ‘might come in handy someday’ for parts. Anything that would be useful for a patchjob, just to repay their hospitality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Tik went looking for him in the evening, Xiuhcoatl in hand, the latest version of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterbean</span>
  </em>
  <span> was halfway through its inaugural buffing.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>On a whim, Kalas set out for nowhere in particular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The past year and a half, while meandering and largely aimless, had not been so. Whether exterminating fiends, answering distress calls, or checking in on loose ends, he’d generally had some kind of destination in mind. He might take the scenic route or find somewhere to dilly-dally but he did check off minor disasters one by one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a whim, he wet his finger, determined the wind, and started walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was how he found himself sheltering under a swath of canvas on one of those rare rainy nights in the heart of Duhr. The cloth was thrown over a tall boulder and a mostly-fallen tree—not the most effective setup, but enough to protect his hard-fought-for fire. Xiuhcoatl had wedged herself into an indent in the stone and was staring at him in abject misery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just glad she got tired of babbling at him in an argumentative tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From within the unceasing visual noise of the rain, Kalas felt the prickle of another’s gaze. At first he tried to ignore it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Squelch-schlup.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A footstep in the mud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Katlau</span>?” asked Xiuhcoatl. Though her voice was small, the pitch cut through the </span>
  <em>
    <span>csh-csh-csh-csh-csh</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the downpour as easily as shears through actual sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not now,” he muttered back as he rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid knew to keep quiet when those words were spoken. She gathered an armload of sticks and held them tight to her chest. He made a mental note to praise her for it later, for all that it did less than nothing to hide her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing a dagger from a sheath at his spine, Kalas backed out of the shelter in the opposite direction of the noise, skirting forward around the boulder. Without the campfire to disrupt his night vision, he could just make out the lurching approach of a biped. It made soft grunting noises interspersed with the grind of tooth on tooth.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not human</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he decided, </span>
  <em>
    <span>But why hasn’t it done anything yet?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If it was a fiend, it was tolerating their presence better than any he’d encountered. If it was an unsent, it had to be close to turning into a fiend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When all it did was stand and sway and stare and grunt, he crept closer, splitting his attention between it and the kid’s location as much as he dared. Soon he’d circled around its rear, poised to strike at a moment’s notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scent of decay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A revenant.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All by itself? This doesn’t add up.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But, try as he might, he could sense no others. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll kill it for good, then get the kid out before its friends show their ugly mugs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifted his grip from reverse to saber—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—and plunged it in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wet sound it made somehow went unswallowed by the surrounding noise; that, or his mind recreated it flawlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wohhhhh...</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” it groaned as he pulled his knife free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just to be sure, he struck a few more times before hopping back, scraping the blade against a trunk to clean it. He still couldn’t detect any others, by traditional senses or pyrefly attunement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wooooe-ladennnn Chiiiiild....”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The revenant remained on its knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wooooe-ladennnn Chiiiiild....”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas dug his nails into his thumb. “Yeah. That’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fiend gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Expired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyreflies flowed past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas didn’t return his knife to its place until he was back under the shelter. He scooped Xiuhcoatl up into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder up to his eyes, which scanned for movement at their flank.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This had to happen the one time I don’t know where I am.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Without a clear idea where the revenant might have come from, investigating further was asking for trouble. Especially with a baby in tow.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...I’ll have to come back. Once I know more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When the rain cleared up in the wee hours, he set out. Behind him, hidden in the predawn, ribbons twisted as the wind met their eclectic ornamentation, glass bottles and bits of metal clinking their farewells. Hopefully no one would remove them before he needed to return.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Komo Mai was many things to many people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Home. Sanctuary. Infirmary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Academia. Wonder. Intrigue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Temple. Bureaucracy. Graveyard of international power-plays.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Kalas it was just loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loud people, loud colors—he wondered if the party ever died. Workers had finally taken down decorations for the Flower Festival, only to replace them with those for the upcoming Midsummer Festival. Mostly iridescent banners of fish, the sun, and birds. He had to keep his eyes on the ground to avoid the omnipresent glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In and out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he promised himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not like Corellia will want to talk to me anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That, naturally, turned out to be wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flurry of gratifications, Kalas was escorted from front stair to the queen’s private chambers. Disconcerted as ever by the response, he shooed all the attendants out as quickly as possible. He spent the short wait playing clapping games with Xiuhcoatl to calm his nerves. She wasn’t very good at it yet but seemed to enjoy it anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—and jam on warm, fresh bread,” he chanted, chasing down her hands for the final clap. Her tiny fingers closed around his and, while he was trying to decide what he was supposed to do about it, he noticed a blue shape by the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corellia, smiling implacably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowered his arms and gathered the kid into his chest. “A busy woman like you waiting on a game? You should have said something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was no trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swept into the room and settled into a nearby chair. Up close, her storied lack of aging couldn’t be written off as the product of cosmetics—as far as he could tell, she wore only lip rouge and kohl. Moreover, he could sense a great well of energy within her, ancient and undying. He was almost afraid to breathe for fear of insulting the being before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have been hoping to speak with you for some time, Kalas,” she said, “But that’s not why you have come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What could the Fairy Guide want with me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> His unease sharpened under her unblinking stare. Without Xelha standing beside him, it felt as though his every misdeed was written in the air. Twisting around him like a full head of snakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevertheless, he rolled out a map. He’d marked with a rough estimate of his most recent travels. “Yeah… something happened a month ago. It might be nothing, but….” He glanced away to frown at the empty space near the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust your instincts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a narrow-eyed pause, during which the Fairy Guide showed no acknowledgment of the strangeness of her words, he proceeded to describe the encounter, as well as his investigation into Malpercio’s tombs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> When he finished, she frowned softly. “The Brethren’s epithet… patience from a revenant....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it’s not just me, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you were right to bring this to my attention,” she agreed, “It is… </span>
  <em>
    <span>unusual</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the risen to be so. A wicked soul will revel in suffering, the vengeful single-minded in pursuing their malefactor. It’s clear you were the target, and yet….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As her voice fizzled out, Corellia made her way to a doored chest adorned with simple pottery. Arms outstretched, the air took on a faintly green tint as she filled the vases with offerings of mana.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors swung open, revealing a collection of tomes and scrolls. She knelt and selected three of the latter. The paper was a strange consistency—pulpier than he was used to and fraying into filaments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas drifted closer to help, kid balanced on his hip, but they were written in an ancient language. Some of the letters were recognizable, but they were few enough that it was unclear if it was a precursor to Yevonese or mere coincidence. The other scrolls were utterly foreign to him. The characters looked at once to be wiggly runes and maritime doodles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that she needed any help—Corellia unrolled each with confidence, skimmed the section, and moved to the next. With each, her lips pursed tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Looks like it’s a dead end. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Which meant he had no choice but to revisit his least favorite hypothesis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Calbren ever tell you how Melodia ended up under the Brethren’s influence?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stilled. Lowered the text. “...I take it she did not outlive her parents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He used Bo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Dark Brethren’s power revived her more completely, allowing for the preservation of her mental faculties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “I was hoping you’d tell me I’m an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are anything but,” she replied with a tight smile, “It seems I must make the same request as King Ladekahn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really your style,” he teased. Back in the day, gaining Pixie had been a notoriously difficult pilgrimage task; Sagi was said to have spent months trying to receive her blessing, only succeeding when he defended the Celestial Tree against the Empire. Even in a gentler world, Queen Corellia’s reticence towards giving or receiving aid was legendary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her countenance remained stern, though he imagined he saw a flicker of quiet mirth in her eyes. “Not a request, then, but a transaction. Tell me, what boon would you ask of the Fairy Guide?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, since you asked….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas held up Xiuhcoatl, more because she was gnawing on the priceless artefact than for effect. For the first time since acquiring the child, he explained everything: the Whale, the coral, his fruitless search for her next of kin. Once he started, little details bored their way to his jaw from the recesses of his skull. Like their close call in the river and the display off the coast of Fhard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He concluded, “I’m not all that worried about it, since He’s involved, but… she’s my responsibility, and one day she’s going to be old enough to ask where she came from.” He sighed again, letting his head sink into the comforting scrape of his collar. “I just want to be able to tell her the </span>
  <em>
    <span>truth</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost as soon as he finished, Corellia’s hands laid upon Xiuhcoatl’s temples. A look of intense concentration crossed her face. The plinking of chimes seemed to arise between the bird trills and rasping leaves of the open balcony, though he couldn’t say he heard them with his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At long last, she pulled away, a strange look crossing her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I must consider what I’ve learned,” she said, distant and dreamy, “Were I to speak now, you would not be able to trust my words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I see.” Rising stiffly, he stowed the kid back in her sling, to her clear annoyance. “I’ll be back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would expect nothing else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Casting one final glance at the still-kneeling ruler, Kalas took the first step towards the door, only to change his mind and spring out the window instead. His beating wings left little room for a twinging heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was soon to regret his choice of egress, however, as in his haste to see the task completed, he neglected to get his hands on a landmark stone.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Good news: the annoying bird was as delicious roasted with mushrooms and berries as it was</span>
  <em>
    <span> quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad news: he’d wasted the last however-many-days following a river that did not, in fact, lead to Opu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, Kalas splashed a double handful of water into his face, recalling too late that the last time he’d done so, it’d resulted in terrible cramps and vomiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he snarled at the wall of rock beneath which the river dipped, “Fuck. You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fack!” the kid agreed, wobbling her way onto a partially submerged branch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xiuh, no!” He grabbed her by her tunic and pulled her back to safety. Once he was sure she wouldn’t fall in, he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Should’ve named you ‘Xix’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sheesh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad you agree. Eat your potato.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Popapo</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she corrected him haughtily, clapping into her orange mush for emphasis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the boss,” he said blandly, swiping a spoonful for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, that got her shoveling the rest down. It was a game he’d had to play a lot recently, lest she refuse to eat and then nibble on random bugs and fungus. She was especially fond of brightly colored spiders, the less fuzzy the better. And only her own lack of hunting skills saved her from the occasional frog dressed in bright toxins.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Back to Plan C.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Plan A had been to walk in a straight line until he ended up </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whether that be Opu or the ocean. It might even have worked if he hadn’t brought an infant with him into a monster-infested jungle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plan B had been to mark trees and rocks to keep track of his progress. It worked well for the first hour, at which point it began raining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plan C? Hole down somewhere with a fire and hope someone noticed his smoke signals. Preferably Savyna, though he couldn’t remember if she was back on Anuenue or still training in Parnasse.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At least I can follow the river back to the ‘good’ campsite.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The place in question was at a greater altitude than the surrounding area, with a tall waterfall to provide clean-ish water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Decision made, he stood up—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—only to be knocked on his ass by a gust of wind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And a very familiar giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas rolled back to his feet and watched as a lithe figure bobbed over the treetops, seemingly on the strength of a paper parasol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He caught her before she could touch down and swung her around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dear Kalas, how I’ve missed you~!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right back at you, Mels!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They squeezed tighter ‘til, at last, they could no longer breathe. It turned out to be good timing, as Xiuhcoatl had found a partially rotted log. While the new arrival smoothed herself down, he lunged to collect the errant babe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sure hope you remembered to grab a landmark stone—” He paused, taking in the new Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After over a year of heartenbrace treatments, she looked healthy, alive. Her complexion, while still pale, had gained enough color that she wouldn’t look out of place in a gathering of her mother’s people. In fact, she had the beginnings of a sunburn across her nose. And though she still needed her neck brace, it looked significantly lighter than before. Based on the craftsmanship, he suspected it was a collaboration between his grandparents and Lolo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Less weighty’ seemed to be the theme of her new duds in general. A cropped halter top with slight draping was matched by knee-length pantaloons, both made with lightweight silk in creamy rose. While leaving the shoulders bare, a pair of detached sleeves covered armpit to an inch or two above the dark, dark red of her chiffon-gloved wrist. Patterned navy ribbons kept the top and bottom of the sleeves snug against the skin, leaving the rest of the fabric to puff out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Below the knee, she wore tights in the same shade of red, patterned with polka dots of varying sizes and values of the surrounding hue. They ended at her ankles, which lead into bare feet with dark blue polish. Over it all, she wore a new version of her iconic stained glass hoop skirt. The panes were small and together depicted scenes of nature: a hummingbird, a lionfish, and other such bright creatures. Around the lower rim of the skirt, it was embellished by tiny valance drapes in the same style as the gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The parasol that he thought was paper turned out to be stained glass as well: remarkably thin panes, which folded up like bamboo slats. Rather than banish it back into a magnus, she propped her weight against it cutely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, did Kalas forget?” she teased. However, her smile fell when she got a better look at him. Tugging at his regrettable beard, she asked, “How long have you been lost here? And with a child?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas batted her hand away. “Mid-early summer? It’s been hard to keep track. But don’t worry, we’ve gotten by—that pilgrimage of ours wasn’t for nothing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mid—!” She was aghast, hand rising to cover her jaw. “Kalas, the winter solstice was weeks ago!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We wondered when you didn’t attend the Festival of the Calm….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Melodia flashed him a smile and changed the subject. “So, this is Tibia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Papa </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> going on about that?” he groaned, handing the kid over, “Her name’s Xiuhcoatl, Xiuh for short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sheesh!” The kid buried messy hands in Melodia’s braids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia tolerated the sweet popapo and yanking—or rather, ignored it in favor of a sly, “Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’s not yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes and gave her as much information as he had Corellia. As he spoke, he noticed a gleam of comprehension cut into those dark eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noticing him noticing, she hummed, “Queen Corellia made some cryptic remarks at the festival… and I think I understand what she….” Her rouged lips pursed. She eyed the child in her arms, not quite frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘What she’ what?” he echoed, annoyed. He longed to snatch the kid out of her arms. Discomfited by the sparks of irritation—startling after two years of near-constant malaise—he added, somewhat desperately, “Come on, Mels, don’t go trailing off on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked, long and slow. “A moment, please.” Another pause. “That is… if you trust me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flinched when he stepped forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held the embrace until she was calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia fluttered her eyelashes. “You’re such a sap, Kalas.” The motion had flicked away the wetness around her eyes but could do nothing for her vocal tremors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, slowpoke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flicked a sizzle of mana at him in punishment, then lowered her forehead to touch Xiuhcoatl’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glow formed at the point of contact, spreading to hug them in their entirety. Because he had to look away almost immediately, it was only in watching the light show on the surrounding foliage that he knew that it shifted in color along the whole spectrum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> a special one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas whipped back around—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—and buried his face in his hands. Not that it stopped the warning stab of a migraine-in-progress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, dear! Allow me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red lines that had remained through a triple layer of skin vanished. Slowly he dared open his eyes, then swiveled away his hands. They framed the scene: Melodia and his kid, safe and sound, the latter picking her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s new,” he commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia glanced down. “Rhinotillexomania? She’ll grow out of it, won’t you, Xiuh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiuh unhinged her jaw and crammed the whole fist inside, staring at him all the while as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘no, I think not’</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha—? No, I mean the light. Your grandfather said Mizuti sprung you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasped, looking like a student who’d suddenly remembered an assignment. Mana gathered at the tips of her middle finger and thumb, enough for a spell—and then some!—compressing to fit into the tiny space. It was a complex magic; he could sense fire, with a weak chronos seal to hold it in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Snap!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A small flame spiralled directly upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BUHD-krsh-tch-tch-shch!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Although it exploded somewhere beyond the canopy, he still caught glimpses of the firework through gaps in the leaves. The cascade of tendrils, the same pink as a lotus, burst with a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>boom</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as opposed to their train of stars, which, after a hearty pause, crackled into smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the smirk of a cream-clotted cat, Melodia purred, “This is the first spell my master teaches—each of us crafts our own, that we may be found when needed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True to her word, another explosion went off, cuing him to leap to a better vantage point. He was barely in time to see a red comet blink out of existence. Next to it, a silver snowflake hung for only an instant longer. The closest was a series of rings within rings, alternately striped blue and yellow, green and orange. Each ring blinked between the palettes thrice before vanishing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Definitely Mizuti.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Or so he thought until the final display:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lurid colors, of which he was certain could not be duplicated by true chemical pyrotechnics, spun like a pinwheel, trailing doodles of stars in its wake. It didn’t last long, but it certainly left with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang</span>
  </em>
  <span>; it imploded into a puff of violently violet smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Great Mizuti. Good to see you’re doing well,” he laughed to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed! Naturally! Forsooth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas fell out of the tree—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—and woke with a truly vile headache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Curaga Stream!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above him hovered Melodia, Xiuhcoatl, Catranne, and two kids, one Al Zhani, the other Wazni.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, until a pair of panicked chestnut eyes blocked them all from view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be so, so, so very sorry, Kalas!” they exclaimed. It seemed that they were finally getting the hang of speaking without a mask, as they were only slightly too loud. “Just a little prank, you see, but it went all wrong! You still be hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, I’m fine, actually.” He sat up, Mizuti following. “Good to see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They moved back enough for him to see their grin, though they didn’t bother flipping right-side-up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti had undergone a growth spurt since the last time he’d seen them—he couldn’t honestly say who was taller between the two of them. Their old hat was gone, replaced by a miniature version of itself, though the wooden bird atop remained the same. It, the re-joined mask resting upon their left shoulder, and the wedge-shaped clogs (now an intense blue with black bottoms) were the only remnants of their old wardrobe, though the new was no less flamboyant for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black fishnets, opera gloves, and puffy shorts were the closest it came to ‘understated’. They wore the stiff tunic typical of the Duhr region, cut so that the left hem disappeared under the criss-crossing teal, orange, and honey of their tartan obi, while the right jutted out past the knee. The tunic started as a cool, rusty red at the bottom, gradating into a pinkish-gray before being covered up by other layers. Solid stars of the same blue as the shoes followed the hem—also blue—to an apex just below the line of the breast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next layer up was a multicolored quilt repurposed as a poncho, and above that was the underscarf of their hijab. However, rather than ending at the collar, it continued into a cape pinned in place by the mask. The cape-scarf was dark, swirling with the purples and blues of the night sky and sparkles, although, as he watched, each light would blink out and appear elsewhere, despite there being no sign another material woven into either place. Both the cape and quilt were lined with orange tassels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catranne sidled into view, as much as either of their costumes allowed. “So, ‘Xiuhcoatl’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a long story. And you can bet that I’m not telling it if you keep smirking like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “Oh, pooh, you’re less fun than I remember. Can I at least tease you for getting lost or is that off-limits too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get me out of here and you can tease me as much as you want,” he sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so they did, and so</span>
  <em>
    <span> she </span>
  </em>
  <span>did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they trekked eastwards, the company filled him in on what they’d been up to:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti, true to form, had wholeheartedly embraced the role of ‘hero’. As it happened, their past two years were a mirror of his own—they wandered from town to town in search of those in need, social in a way that Kalas himself wasn’t. As word of their valiant deeds spread, they accidentally accrued a bevy of apprentices. Not that the self-proclaimed Greatness minded—in fact, they barely seemed to notice their paradigm shift. Progression from defender of the weak to architect of the strong was a short road, and had begun long before the fall of Sin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“—and </span>
  <em>
    <span>KAPOW!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Mizuti hollered, left arm chopping the sky whilst the right went for Catranne’s hip, “The foul beast be slain at last!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“King Ladekahn bestowed an honorary knighthood!” Melodia chimed in. From her gossamer eyes, he could tell she was fantasizing an errant in silver, silk fluttering from arm and lance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though the thought wasn’t serious, it stuck in his mind. As such, Kalas found himself noticing his sister’s eyes lingering on Mizuti’s as they launched into another tale. Her small, fond smile. The sparkle as she listened, far too enrapt for someone who was present for the events described.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia caught him staring. She tilted her head in askance, then, at his shrug, turned back to the object of her interest. Without seeming to notice she was doing it, her lashes fluttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>OH.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped it worked out, one way or another; if something came of it and ended badly, he wasn’t sure who he was obligated to rough up.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the successful terraforming of New Wezn, an eight-pointed island ensconced between the Gedao mainland and archipelago, Catranne had originally set out to offer Mizuti, among the most powerful mages alive, a position at the soon-to-open Ukdah Academy of Thaumaturgy. Upon being turned down, she elected to learn as much as she could from the living legend before the time came to start her own class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“What could </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> offer?” he asked, honestly stumped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catranne stared at him like he was an idiot. “What does </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Grand Summoner</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to offer?” She raised a hand to block incoming arguments. “Uh-uh-uh, I don’t care if you decide not to, but think it over at least! You have a knack for aeons and everyone knows you’re the expert in pyrefly conduction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s ‘everyone’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After joining up with Mizuti, Melodia had, in her words, ‘begun to atone’ for her part in the near-destruction of the world. Her efforts were met with mixed responses at first, but she was generally regarded as a hero.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mizuti was probably the best person for her to go off with—you can’t really argue with them, so anyone who doesn’t like it either has to get over themselves or get steamrolled. Speaking of which….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just to be clear, I’m supposed to pretend I don’t notice you glossing over half the timeline of this adventure of yours, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a pest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the pest!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ahead, Mizuti doubled over, choking on a grape.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stories passed the time, but not quickly enough. When he finally reached Opu, months late, Kalas sighed in relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So dramatic,” teased Catranne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Casting an irritated glance her way, he waved to the door on his right. “Do you have any idea how long I was stuck in that shitty jungle? I’m getting this over with as soon as possible, then kicking up my feet for awhile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rapped twice—once on the door, once on a bun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas! Thank heavens!” Mayfee’s grandmother dragged him into a hug, shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, granny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not here,” she muttered, motioning them all inside. She peeked furtively out the frame before closing and latching the door. Clumsily fixing a tea tray, she explained, “You never know what kind of... travelers will come by these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now he knew better than to interrupt when she was in such a state, allowing her to fuss with her cups and candied fruits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia clapped her hands together. “Well, since we’re waiting anyway, why don’t we do something about Xiuh’s clothes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fought back the urge to get defensive. “Yeah, I did the best I could, but between the growing and….” He gestured vaguely. Life on the road wasn’t great for textiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel free to take what you need, dearie,” said their host absent-mindedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he’d rather not impose, Kalas couldn’t deny that it would probably be necessary. Xiuhcoatl’s sleeveless ‘tunic’ was little more than a repurposed fisherman’s sack he’d picked up in Nashira. It had been darned and patched so many times that very little of the original material was left. Her shoes were still good, since he just copied the design he used for his own, as were the bandages around her legs—he kept a large supply for easy protection against brambles and gnats. The only part of her outfit that wasn’t cheaply made were her bangles and necklaces, odds and ends that he’d found or bought at her insistence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clay beads from Azha, a gift from ‘Uncle Folon’, along with a pair of flameice chip bracelets. One of Xelha’s pieces, which Xiuh had somehow pocketed from Kaffaljidhma. A necklace of pearls from Lolo’s salvage. A set of tarnished gold hoops he’d found in a ruin. A string of monster teeth too small to peddle. A compass pendant with little obsidian hands, scrounged from a garbage heap. Blown glass from around the world strung on copper wire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between the seven of them, they managed to put together something more comfortable. The Azhani girl offered a spare dress of a similar cut, black with a thick border of brown diamonds and orange triangles around the hemline. It was held in place by a plaque belt, courtesy of a Mizuti treasure hunt, with inlaid mother-of-pearl disks, each painted with a scene from some forgotten legend. Catranne had a few scarves of Wezni make to help tame Xiuh’s curls. And Melodia provided a seagreen cape much like Kalas’ own, save for a trim of lace diamonds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Why do you even have this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I commissioned it for Yuletide, in case you decided to drag the poor thing over the mountains again,” she scolded. She also handed over a belated birthday present: a wheeled wooden greythorne on a leash.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they finished, Mayfee’s grandmother was sipping tea, as calm as she was going to get. She waited until the children lost interest in favor of playing with the greythorne toy, then said quietly, “Mayfee is missing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her earlier comment came back to mind like a pail of ice. “You think she was kidnapped?” His eyes flicked to Xiuh, his ribs swelling with a buzzing kind of pain-tightness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tightened her grip on her cup. “I don’t know what to think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas,” Melodia murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and shifted back. It was probably for the best to let someone with a gentler touch gather information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satisfied he wasn’t going to interfere, she continued, “Can you tell us more? Was there anything out of the ordinary, like a stranger in town or maybe strange rumors?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not… precisely. Since the Descent, there’s been a group of Earth Children who visits around this time every year. After they left, Mayfee seemed… troubled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Troubled’ how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure…. She began wandering off more than I’ve ever known her to do… getting lost in her head…. I tried to keep her close, but my eyes just wouldn’t stay open. When I woke from my doze, she was gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grandmother explained in a small voice how she’d asked around town, only to be told the same things she herself had noticed. A search party had been formed but found nothing. As for her, she could only stay home in case Mayfee returned on her own, too rheumatic and prone to ailment to tromp over the steep cliff trails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Has anyone checked the Celestial Tree?” asked Kalas. He had the sinking feeling that he knew the culprits. If he was right, then there was at least a chance that the situation wasn’t as sinister as it seemed, though that wasn’t a bet he himself would be willing to make.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We thought it for the best to check closer first… it’s a long trip to make in so short a time….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes met the others’. Between Mizuti and Melodia, they knew him well enough to tell that he’d caught a fishy scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Kalas, do you… recognize it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia’s gentle question shaved off the edge of his misgivings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah,” he croaked, throat dry as he listened to the arcane chanting, “Those weirdos at the Cloud Vents. You ever hear this, Great Mizuti?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shook their head and sighed, however, their eyes remained screwed up in thought. Whatever they were mulling over, they finally shook their head again, more firmly this time. “...This be beyond even the Great Mizuti’s knowledge. But… I do feel that I’ve heard it before. Somewhen beyond recollection….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Beyond recollection’...,” he echoed, “I don’t know about you, but nothing good’s ever come from </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> messing around with stuff ‘beyond recollection’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catranne clapped his back. “Well, we’re almost there. Let’s try to keep an open mind, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all agreed, though only the kids seemed to actually follow through. The rest of them were on high alert, instinctively adjusting their formation to favor defense over expedition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chanting stopped just before they arrived, followed by an aged voice saying, “Thank you, child. You’ve done well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just doing my job, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mayfee.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THUD.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He landed before the entrance to the Shrine of Wood, wings flared and blades ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mayfee was with a crowd of Earth Children, all masked, all in that unfamiliar dress style.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was unhurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Mayfee,” he said, tone as casual as his stance was not, “Your grandmother’s worried about you—says you were acting weird, then she couldn’t find you?” He scanned her reaction carefully for signs of duress, just in case her possible kidnappers had threatened her into silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the girl could reply, one of the company—mask concave in the center, vines creeping in from behind—placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Ah, Most Holy Grand Summoner, the Keeper was merely aiding us in our sworn duty.” It was the same elder as had spoken earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared holes into that hand. “Which would be…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, ensuring that the Wicked God’s presence is well and truly gone,” she replied. The only indication that she recognized the threat he posed was a twitchy tightening of her grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knock of feet on wood announced the others’ arrival. Stepping to be perpendicular to both sides, Kalas risked glancing back, meeting Mizuti’s eyes and giving a subtle half-nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their lower lids tightened. Message received.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Great Mizuti be wondering,” they drawled, theatrically brushing back their cape as they made their way forward, “why you doubt the Great Mizuti in this matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never before had he seen so many Whale Eyes sketched with such haste. He was almost jealous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While her underlings froze, the old woman acquiesced to the scolding. Head inclined, she said, “Pardon us, it is simply… important to our kin that we see for ourselves. Paramount, one might say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your kin?” asked Catranne. Waddling forward, she set off another round of Eyes, to which she gave no acknowledgment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, our kin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They waited, but that seemed all she was willing to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where be you from?—the Great Mizuti does not recognize your textile signature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “Not to worry. You’re young yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Mizuti and Catranne were fuming at the non-response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” The mask swivelled to study the children. At long last, she released Mayfee, who, seeming to have caught on to the uneasy mood, edged closer to her friends. “Little Sky Children, how delightful!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas felt his wings shift into a hunch, feathers standing on end. He usually hated when that happened, as it was lopsided thanks to his winglet, but if it could scare her off—!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little Wazni boy, if I’m not mistaken, and an Al Zhani girl!” Concave hadn’t been exaggerating—if anything, ‘delighted’ was too mild to describe her, especially once her gaze landed on Xiuhcoatl. “Ah, and if it isn’t the Whale Child!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi-bye,” Xiuh replied. Despite the clear dismissal, the woman’s attention remained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If not for Melodia’s hand coming to rest on his back, he’d’ve skewered her on the spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xiuh, dear, naptime!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid was more than happy to totter over to her new favorite aunt, who scooped her up and away from the eyeless gaze of the Earth Children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly hostile Earth Children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas dove atop Mizuti’s young tag-alongs. Above, the wizard’s pocket dimension let out its characteristic slurp, devouring the magic that would endanger their protégés. He rolled to his feet with the kids, pushing them behind in the same motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mayfee, distraught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti, cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia, commanding a barrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leader of the Earth Children was yelling, but he was too angry for the words to register. Once sure the kids were well out of harm’s way, he stalked forward until his blade was lightly scratching the wood of her ‘eye’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Kalas—!” she sputtered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Touch </span>
  <em>
    <span>my sister</span>
  </em>
  <span> again. I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.” He thought Melodia might protest for the sake of his reputation, but it seemed some of her master’s aplomb had rubbed off on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead it was an underling in a caplin mask who snarled, “You—her—!” A mad, despairing fit of laughter. Clenched fists. “You never—?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What, precisely, Kalas ‘never’ he would never know, for the younger members of the group began yelling over each other. He caught ‘sinspawn’, ‘brethren’, ‘monster’, ‘one-wing’—a clear sign it was time to tune back out. Sparing one last contemptuous glare for the entire group, he pivoted on his heel, spitefully pleased at the sound of metal scoring wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—spawn of sinspawn deserves to die!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold. I can sense the blessing of the Great Whale upon the child. If anything, she must be recovered at once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His anger found its mirror in Melodia, whose expression strayed close to her old self. Their eyes met; a concord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pivot transforming into a complete revolution, he brought his arms to bear, just in time to mitigate a spell’s impact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>REFLECTAGA WALL!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Further efforts to turn Kalas into a pile of ash bounced off of Melodia’s barrier. Their opponents, experienced mages all, were undeterred, flowing from one incantation to the next—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Chronaga Blow… and detonate!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—’til Mizuti landed in their midst, pendant glowing. Large, lime hands—apparitions of long-dead titans, drawn into the present—radiated from the wizard’s person in a shockwave that was enough to make the Celestial Tree shudder. The spells Mizuti had captured prior pumped through the transparent ‘arms’ and burst out of the palms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Reflectaja Wall!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” those of the highest skill screamed out in unison. Rather than an individual wall, each produced two to three, combining to form a maze. Many of the hands were bounced along a path to bypass their targets, or else led into false ends, where they spent their power until it dissipated entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Using the visual bombast as cover, Kalas ran to the edge of the branch and sprang towards an area of exposed black rock. A few wingbeats brought him into the path of the thermal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>up</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>dive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple even seemed to notice him coming, not that they could do much to him at his speed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Children’s formation shattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His teeth, gritted against the wind, scraped into grin at the sight of their panic. A bundle of spells, ever-growing and straining against their seal, was volleying between Mizuti and Concave. Without their leader’s direction, the rest didn’t seem to know how to regroup.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s almost like what Savyna says about the Empire.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At least they were cognizant of their failings—all who weren’t down for the count were throwing themselves at Mizuti, bestial in their desperation. Melodia was dancing amongst them, wielding her parasol like a rapier and club in turn, occasionally flicking it open to block an incoming spell. The energy was absorbed into the weapon, whereupon she directed it inward for healing or, snapping the parasol closed, outward into a thrust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catranne stayed at a comfortable distance for evoking, the pseudo-aeons ripping through any defenses that could be raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Concave, meanwhile, gave up on trying to overpower Mizuti and redirected the engorged spell upwards, where it punched through multiple layers of branches. She gathered what appeared to be the last of her might, which singed the air around her—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>ENOUGH!</em>
  </b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant, it was as if all the mana left his body. Kalas sank to his knees, dimly aware of the others doing the same. After a few breaths, he was able to raise his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone who was not Mayfee stood in her skin. To stare at her was like gazing too deeply at one point in space; a smirch of an aura seemed to crawl at her edges, following the eye as it glanced away—an unnameable color, then its inverse and equal. The same occurred when she moved, the afterimage a smear of otherworldly flame. Her dark eyes took on a hint of green, which blazed emerald where sunlight hit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>YOU OF FLESH, SUBMIT UNTO MINE WILL.”</b>
</p><p>
  <span>It was far, far from the first time such a being had demanded thus of him. It was, however, the first time it felt like an invitation more than an edict. Considering the circumstances, he had a feeling he knew who—or rather, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>—they had angered. Unlike the renegade Earth Children, who seemed to think they were hearing the voice of the Dark Brethren.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>ABANDON YOUR QUARREL, WRETCHES, OR BE SMOTE, THAT NOBLER CREATURES MAY SUP.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, our bad,” Kalas replied, “Is there anything we can do to make it up to you, O Celestial Tree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That shut up the goon squad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Tree regarded him, then opened the hollow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>THOU SHALT COMPLETE THY TASK. DIVINETH THE ASUJANS’ BLIGHT, IF BLIGHT THERE BE.”</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Asujans’? Corellia asked me to check for the Dark Brethren, so it has to mean them… kind of makes me wonder what else we’ve forgotten.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Another thought occurred to him. “Wait, why do you need me? Can’t you sense them—the, uh, Asujans?—on your own?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he spoke the Brethren’s name aloud, he felt a ripple of cold—a distant cousin of their true presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, there’s that explained.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>“SPEAKETH NOT THE PROFANE NAME, O COBALT RAVEN, LEST THEIR RUIN BE THINE IN TURN. BETHINK THYSELF OF THY HEART AND THAT SHE QUOTH: AUGHT NAMED IS WITHOUT QUINTESSENCE, NOR CAN NAME WITHOUT GHOST BE UTTERED. BY MINE OWN BE CLEANSED.”</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Iwikuamo’o,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the leaves seemed to whisper, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Iwikuamo’o</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwikuamo’o,” he whispered. He felt warm again. Warm and strong and loved. He bashed at his eye to clear it. “Y-yeah,” he said, louder, “Just give me a sec.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he completed his investigation, Iwikuamo’o had taken her leave of Mayfee, who was stumbling to explain herself to her seniors. The other Keepers already had Concave and her muscle in custody and, from the looks of things, were more than happy to complete their set.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as his presence was noticed, one of them pulled out something resembling an onion, hurling it at him with a short incantation.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Talk about nostalgia</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, almost fondly, as his body was overtaken by a network of roots.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He knew they’d reached the capital when, after a very long pause, Corellia sighed, “Take the Earth Children and leave us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even the Great Mizuti?! Unbelievable! Inconceivable! Nons—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SLAM.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The roots retreated. He, Catranne, Melodia, and Xiuhcoatl were piled on the floor of Corellia’s throne room, the queen reclining and pressing her fingers into her eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You forgot a landmark stone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes and sighed again. “I feared the worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, I’m not going to die that easily!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sliver of green, uncannily like that of the possessed Mayfee. “The resurgence of your despair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart skipped a beat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That I… wandered off or something? Or offed myself?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kalas couldn’t even claim offense, given that his post-Descent stay in Komo Mai ended without saying any goodbyes. He watched Xiuh tug the greythorne in circles out of the corner of his eye. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I couldn’t even if I wanted to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Corellia looked on knowingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Catranne who got them back on track. “So, I’m guessing you didn’t find anything, Kalas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean the Brethren? No,” he replied, “Not unless you count what Iwikuamo’o told me. But that was just an old name for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corellia’s eyes widened, then shuttered softly closed as she smiled. “She revealed Her name to you? Not many can claim that honor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To the others he explained, “The Celestial Tree.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melodia mouthed ‘oh’. Then, worriedly: “I’m sure you’ve heard by now, Your Majesty, but She was damaged when those strange Earth Children attacked us. Please allow me to apologize for my part in all of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her injuries are insubstantial,” said the queen, “I will be looking into the details, of course, but I am far more concerned with these Earth Children and their purpose.” Though her features remained smooth, there was a distinct air of menace to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas nodded. “It’s not the first time those guys have caused trouble—I caught their friends snooping around the Cloud Vents too.” Huffing, he continued under his breath, “Dammit, I was hoping to relax for a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Purposefully jostling him as she slipped her arm in his, Melodia clucked, “Now, Kalas, it’s been ever so long since we all travelled together—you wouldn’t leave a fragile mage all on her lonesome, would you, my dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes and head to the side. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made a noise of affront and thwacked his shins with her parasol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it’s settled then?” asked Catranne, looping herself his other arm, “We’re grabbing Mizuti and then it’s off to Duhr?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glance at the queen, who nodded. “Yeah. Guess so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still tired, yes, but in a satisfying way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like old times.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>For once, they were in luck: Kamroh was meeting with Krumly, so they could pick both their brains at once. Even more so, the leaders had decided to meet halfway, which meant that he would get the chance to check on Capella, as strange as it was to count a visit to the Garden of Death as ‘lucky’. Stranger still was entering the once-desolate plains by way of boat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mizuti steered the craft, which rivalled the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterbean </span>
  </em>
  <span>in crampedness, down the mouth of the Deneb River. Villagers greeted them from vessels of their own, hard at work fishing or, near Duhr Port, loading and unloading trade ships. Others stayed on the shore, where they harvested papyrus and other plants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They knew they were getting close when, after passing the glut of bustle near Algorab’s port, there was a sudden, sharp decline in people and animals alike. At long last, they came across a fork marked by a pair of sandstone arches. The left proudly declared itself the path to Gemma, while the right had a warning inscribed in Yevonese, Al Fhard, Al Zhani, and a few other languages he didn’t recognize. It read:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CAPELLA THE DEATH GARDEN LIES AHEAD</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ABANDON THIS PATH, YOUR HOPE, OR YOUR LIFE</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was disappointed to find that not one of his companions seemed to care. It was no fun to tease when it was blasé for everyone. Even the kids weren’t impressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Cinquefoil!” cooed Melodia, prodding him to photograph it, “And carved with such detail—I can’t believe they managed all this in under two years!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Considering that each was taller than the average house, he couldn’t disagree.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As foreboding as the message had been, the scenery continued to be pleasant. The apparent lack of wildlife was concerning, but the land was far from what it had been. A saltwater swamp replaced rubbery mud, lily pads the scraggly brush. While most of the trees were still dead, mangroves his height and taller had grown here and there, and all trees, regardless of state, were covered in stringy leaves and moss like Xelha’s hair after a restless night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The revenants that they missed out on during their first visit were back with a vengeance—or not, as they paid little attention to the boat. They glided slowly through the heather green muck with ballerina grace, many of them sporting moss of their own along the exposed bone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the rare occasion a skull drifted too close, Kalas didn’t even need to perform a true Sending; simply calling to their pyreflies caused them to disperse, and some even sought him out after the first few times. Eventually, he stepped out of the boat entirely—no doubt a relief for those remaining—and strolled along the dark, clouded surface, Sending large groups at once. Other unsent approached as well: the recently departed, bemused at their state of being; conglomerate soul fragments, aching for peace; and skeletons bound in tight, leathery skin, who tugged at his ankles, eager for their turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a heaviness still to Capella, but it was one wholly unlike the Brethren’s influence, somber and comforting at the same time. A place where the dead could rest. Where the living wouldn’t trouble them. A safe haven for those apart from time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, despite the relative safety of the region, the meeting place for the Greatnesses was only so far into the haunted wetlands as would discourage eavesdropping; their progress was artificially slowed by their collective assumption that it would be held at the shrine where the Sword of the Heavens once laid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, Catranne sifted through her magnus until she had five with which to evoke: a sturdy cane, a fortune slip, a dog statuette, a bookmark, and a card with the image of three stars and rippling water. A spectral dog appeared: tall and purple-black, with a long snout and bottlebrush tail. It oriented itself to some unseen cue and sprinted off, moving like watercolor across a wet surface. It vanished upon reaching a domed gazebo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mizuti! What are you doing in a place like this?” cried Kamroh, nearly tripping in his rush to greet them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas wasn’t sure why he bothered walking on flat surfaces, let alone scrambling over stair and root—a lifetime of levitation had done wonders for his magical capacity, not so much for his ability to walk in a straight line. By contrast, Krumly, who took one look at his colleague’s drunken-esque windmilling and opted to steer clear of the boardwalk, was able to vault over the railing and use a path of fallen boughs and other detritus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he’d barely met them before the Descent, it was still strange to see the Greatnesses maskless. Kamroh’s face was almost as round as his old mask. His green-gold eyes were the sole survivors of terrible premature aging, as he’d gone bald and gray-browed, and even those threatened to be swallowed by crow’s feet. Krumly, though creased by permanent frown and worry lines, had fared better. The thick rolls of his hair, like Melodia’s but greener, dipped past his shoulders. He’d also grown a moustache since Kalas saw him last, the tips slicked into neat curls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We be here on the business of the Great Corellia!” Mizuti announced, meeting Kamroh halfway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In no time at all, they were under the gazebo and explaining the situation. Kalas and Mizuti did most of the talking, with the occasional input from Catranne. Melodia, while present, stayed on the outskirts and distracted the children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cast an eye on her as often as he dared; he was probably the only one who knew her well enough to see that she was tense. The trick was to stare at the area below her ear, where the brace didn’t cover—it was the easiest place to tell if her neck muscles were tight. Whoever was responsible for her ducal grooming probably assumed that no foreign dignitary would ever be allowed close enough to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see…,” mused Kamroh when they finished, “I don’t like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any ideas as to where they might hail from?” asked Melodia softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, then paused. “No… unless….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. “Ah, I beg your pardon. A thought occurred to me—can we be sure that they are indeed Children of the Earth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s…!” exclaimed Kalas, eyes wide, “...actually a good point. Anyone could look like they’re from the Earth if they’re wearing the full digs. Especially if they’re trying to trick Skyfolk.” He lolled his head towards the only Earth Child who had interacted with them. “Mizuti?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pursed lips, unhappy. “The Great Mizuti—hmm.” They busied themself with the remnants of their elders’ luncheon, a handful of rice crackers and cold tea. The time they bought didn’t seem to have helped much, judging by their furrow-browed nose wiggle. “The Great Mizuti not be… mmm, can say no more!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Kalas had ever seen them so hesitant, he couldn’t remember it. Then, head low, they peeked up at their Greatness and he knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, should’ve asked earlier. There’s no way they’re going to give me their honest opinion now, not without better proof than the word of their chief.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The flaccid support was enough for Kamroh, however, who gave a relieved smile. “There you have it! Despite their age, Mizuti has excellent judgment. It must have been an attempt to frame us. We Children of the Earth have toiled for a thousand years too long to tamper with the Celestial Tree!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If we argue, he’ll think we’re accusing him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he realized, something ugly and unwelcome roiling below his sternum. He forced his face into blankness and sought out Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Politely neutral. She’d come to the same conclusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll work at Mizuti</span>
  </em>
  <span>, said the barest incline of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas swept for tells before shrugging, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Back to the road for me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As he performed the I’m-ready-to-make-an-exit-now foot shift, Kamroh caught his eye. “Wait, before you leave, I have something to ask of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s ‘play delivery boy with info on Lord Sagi’, you can mail it in to Calbren—it’ll be awhile before I’m ready to head back to Mira. You guys were our only lead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s unrelated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made him pause. “Oh, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamroh, while remaining superficially cordial, took on a hint of steel. “It would be greatly appreciated if you would take your duties more seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ugly thing inside his chest stretched indolently, reclining along the full length of his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kamroh!” hissed Krumly. There was a warning in his posture, one that was drowned out by the wild darting of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Afraid of me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He crossed his arms and said aloud, “I’m all ears if you’ve got a problem with how I’m doing this.” Never dropping his glare, he very deliberately circled around to Melodia’s forward right. If it came down to a brawl, the position would let him guard or attack without getting in her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a scampering sound. Xiuh was young but she knew by now to make for safety in the event of a fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant regarding your kingship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ears rang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was petrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around him, his friends gently called his name. But all his attention was focused on the stern face before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He knows.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He knows.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who else knows?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The greatness continued, “You’re in a rare position to accomplish real good. I can understand your hesitancy, given….” He paused, eyes darting to Melodia and back, and coughed. “...but you possess the most important quality a leader can have: love for the people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bubble of crazed laughter got caught in Kalas’ throat. Was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> what all the leaders saw in him? </span>
  <em>
    <span>What a joke! You’re all delusional!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see you don’t believe me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What tipped you off?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted to snark. It was probably a good thing his throat and lips were sealed to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—but the evidence is abundant. All one need do to find you is follow the trail of humanitarian deeds across the continents. Just imagine what that spirit could do if applied more strategically!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Stop it,” he managed to croak. It left a not-quite-ache in its wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamroh acquiesced with a frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when he noticed the hands gripping his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas, is it true?” his sister murmured directly into his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he bit out, somewhat easier after having vocalized once, “Barnette is—Xelha and I—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not using her,” said Kamroh, coming closer, “You’ve more than proved that. No man who wanted power for power’s sake would have spent the past two years amongst the afflicted, nor risked himself against monstrous fiends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe that’s what I want you to think. Maybe I’m in for the long con.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He vacillated on letting the bitter words befoul their shared breaths, narrowly caging them in with his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was glad of his choice when he saw Mizuti’s face. The sixteen-year-old looked almost scared. Caught between loyalties to their leader, their friend’s wishes, and what they wished for their friend—it hurt to see his lowest point mirrored by the spunkiest, most free-spirited member of his little family.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But what am I supposed to do?! No matter what, they’re going to feel that way! Why’d he have to meddle?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact of the matter was that, aside from his personal reasons to abstain, it made sense politically. Like it or not, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Grand Summoner and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have enormous influence over powerful people. His checkered past had been spun in ways that broadened his appeal, he had a reputation for getting things done, and there were still people in Alfard who saw him as a literal demigod. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> it would benefit his loved ones. Xiuhcoatl would get the stability he never had, his friends could visit at any time, and he would have the means to help anyone he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except that what he wanted most was to shrug off the yoke of ‘destiny’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Like any other couple’, Xelha had said. This wasn’t what she’d wanted for him. It wasn’t even what she’d wanted for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t notice that Kamroh had begun coaxing again until Krumly snapped, “You have your answer, you old fool!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently Kalas wasn’t the only one caught off-guard by his unexpected champion—Mizuti had acquired bulging eyes and multiple chins, Catranne’s brows had vanished into her hair, and Kamroh gaped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krumly jerked his head sharply towards the dock. “Lord Kalas, a word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, you’ve got my attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A plaintive Mizuti was reassured by Melodia, who gave him a Look over their shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t tell me you’re not curious.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>An eyeroll. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re so predictable.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When they reached the dock, Xiuh came to meet them, only to be shooed away by Krumly. She pouted and stomped off to find her aunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kalas watched her go, he offhandedly said, “Thanks, by the way. For sticking up for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the least I could do,” Krumly sighed. His eternal surliness was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a sad old man shrinking in on himself. “Has the Sword of the Heavens served you well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a start, he remembered that it was on Mizuti’s authority alone that he had claimed it. “Oh, uh, sorry, I forgot—here!” He presented it in a rush. It wasn’t strictly necessary to call it out of its magnus but felt more genuine to hand over the physical object.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marine eyes stared hungrily at the blade. Then, wrenching them away as a foot placed on ice, Krumly raised his hands defensively. “No! By the gods, no! You’ve earned your claim to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. I thought you’d be madder about your sacred treasure being stolen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He became smaller, if possible. Smaller and sadder and older.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, did you think you were going to wield it? Take down the Wicked God and become a hero?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A self-deprecating laugh. “No… I thought I could use it to barter.” Again he stared, though from the corner of his downturned eyes. “Homage paid to the insurmountable wrath of His Divinity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—further than he himself had gone, although that was, admittedly, more due to timing and pride than any sort of moral high ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you went to take the Sword, except someone beat you to it,” Kalas nodded along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krumly smiled tersely. “I thought Kamroh to blame and confronted him, but he saw right through me. If you hadn’t taken it, I would have removed the Earth’s defenses against Malpercio… and doomed us all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The confession sat between them, comfortable in the lack of response. Kalas crossed the dock to stare in the direction opposite the way he came, leaning on crossed arms against the railing. A weight that had gone unnoticed was lifted and it was like a haw peeling back; he took in the beauty of the Garden of Death and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so very green and alive. He had no intention of settling down but, if he had to pick somewhere, Capella was appealing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elsewhere, a frog made a pompous announcement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bird grumbled back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bugs cheered for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile grew and he closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scent of sulfur—not rotten eggs, like many described it, but clean and earthy and rich with decay—the scent of a good death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Air rife with greenery and pollen. He could just imagine the latter: thick and yellow, or orange, or brown, or even red. It smelled of secrets. Of bones hidden just beneath the dirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flower, sharply sweet and perfumey. He resolved to find it—he knew a few places where it would get a good price, as well as a few people who enjoyed that sort of thing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Papa, Ayme, maybe Lyude and Trill, Geldoblame if he’s gotten his shit together….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Wings are an aberration’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The statement was as mystifying as it was out of the blue. At the same time, it finally dislodged a burr of a thought he’d been picking at since the Celestial Tree: Mayfee’s anti-wing leaflet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you guys hadn’t heard anything,” he commented, rolling over to face Krumly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irritation zigzagged across Krumly’s brow. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kamroh</span>
  </em>
  <span> hasn’t heard anything, because Gemma is too damn perfect for malcontents to gain purchase!” he spat, “Fomalhaut, as those idiots have chosen to style themselves, have been gnawing old bones since word of Malpercio’s resurrection spread!” His outrage and the energy it granted soon shrivelled away. “Had I but known that they were a menace to Skyfolk as well, I would have alerted the world leaders myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only reason Kalas could think of for Children of the Earth to resent wings crumbled against the implicit assertion that Children of the Sky were not inherently targeted. “So does that mean that it’s not about being trapped beneath the Taintclouds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krumly shook his head. “‘Fomalhaut’ means ‘the mouth of the whale’ in an ancient language—they mean to align themselves with the will of the Great Whale Himself, on the perception that, when He chose not to interfere in the War of the Gods, it was to let Malpercio and Wiseman destroy each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wiseman being the threat that Malpercio formed to fight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People forget. Even the important things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. Then you should know that Wiseman all but ruled the world in those times. The people loved him for teaching them how to make magnus and sprout wings at will… and then they waged war his name, overcome with love of their own power.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It clicked suddenly why Mo had so readily trusted a former Brethren sycophant. Kalas had indeed ‘with his own hands’ ripped out the wing given him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Fomalhaut believes that wings will corrupt the people they belong to… what about the Dark Brethren?” He strained to remember more about the two encounters. “They said something about cleansing their influence, but I didn’t sense anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krumly clenched his teeth, shame-faced. “I don’t know anything more. After the Sword, I’ve been trying to—I’ve done everything I can to keep Fomalhaut out of Algorab.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a pause, Kalas clapped him on the back the way Gibari used to do. It felt really awkward, but it seemed like the right thing to do. “I’ll let you know what I find, so you keep me posted too, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They exchanged promises, contact lists, and an uncomfortable grin, then slunk back to the gazebo to collect their respective companions.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Three months of nonstop travel and an unfruitful meeting with the Great Liling later, Kalas received a note written in Savyna’s blocky lettering.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mizuti explained things. Glad to hear you’re alive. Come to Parnasse.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The dagger is for Xiuhcoatl.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In addition to the characteristically ominous message, the envelope was stuffed with magnus: a compass, provisions, a crude water filter, an oilskin, a breathable hat, and the aforementioned dagger, which was nearly identical in design to his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never too young to learn, huh?” he drawled, testing its edge and balance. He raised an eyebrow at the grabby child climbing up his leg. “Does this mean you’ll stop trying to steal mine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another letter was mixed in with the magnus.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey, Kalas! It’s Trill! It’s been so long—we really need to catch up. I’m finishing up my apprenticeship with Tisocco. It’s been a long time coming, I’ll tell you that! When you swing by (and you’d better, mister—I KNOW WHERE YOUR PAPA LIVES, DON’T THINK I WON’T TATTLE) you have to try my Choco-Berry Pie. It’s gooey and yummy and I decorate with chocolate chocobo feathers!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Since Savyna already told you about the competition, I’ll just skip straight to my other big news: once the festival’s over, Trill’s Diner will be relocating to Sheraton! It turns out that Mom used to live there, can you believe it? I can’t wait to meet my uncles—Mom says they’re really funny. You should’ve seen her face when she heard they were in the Battle of the Descent!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Speaking of, I hear you’re a bigshot now too. Oh yeah, and a father? Savyna says it’s true but the rumor mill has been super weird—just the other day, Dad had to break up an argument because everyone got so heated. An Anuenuan soldier was on leave and overheard someone say that Queen Corellia was the mother? (For the record, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he</span>
  <em>
    <span> seemed pretty sure she’s the crown princess of Diadem. Mom wouldn’t let me watch, so I heard most of it through the wall.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, now that I’ve talked your ear off, don’t be a stranger!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your friend,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~TRILL~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was how he put his investigation on hold to eat pie.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The Baking Festival was in full swing by the time he made it to Mira, which was the excuse he used for not seeing Gibari until he lurched out of an apple-bobbing barrel, two dangling by the stem from his mouth. He made a jumble of sounds that was probably meant to be ‘Kalas’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for Kalas himself, he sighed, smiled, and opened his arms for the coming bear hug. He was lifted and spun until Ladekahn’s voice came from the side:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gibari! Show some decorum!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas wriggled until he was able to glare balefully over the wall of muscle. “If you start calling me ‘king’, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> invade Diadem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The White Flame, comparatively dressed down in a charcoal pinstripe suit and light orange turtleneck, winced in discomfort. “Queen Barnette did say you were, um… disinclined to accept.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He replied with a rude gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guffawing, Gibari set him down. He was also wearing a grey suit, though he’d abandoned most of it. More notably, he’d finally grown his stubble into a short beard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fondness swelled in Kalas’ chest. A little embarrassed, he gave a wry smile and looked away. “It’s good to see you guys again—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Xiuh, put that down!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” She continued to shovel dirt into her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Chocolate</span>
  </em>
  <span> dirt, granted, but setting a precedent was the last thing he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, now, little princess,” cajoled an annoying voice. Folon, materializing from behind a mountain of caramel apples, scooped up a handful of his own. “You wouldn’t want to eat chocobo dung.” As he shook the granules free, he sleighted a chocolate conch into the mix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid shrieked in disgust and spat until her mouth was dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas groused, “So you’ll listen to Uncle Folon but not me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in question looked taken aback. Vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pretending not to notice, he stuck out his arm so Xiuh could climb to her preferred perch, pointing to each new face in turn. “This is Uncle Folon, Uncle Gib, and Uncle ‘Kahn. You met them already but you were a baby, so—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He side-eyed the toddler on his shoulder. “‘No’ what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No baby! Sheesh!” she pouted back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, kiddo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fack!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t teach her that,” he lied, not even bothering to do so convincingly, “Anyway, where’s Uncle Lyude and Auntie Ayme?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Many uncle,” Xiuh commented skeptically, mouth twisted and eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grinning, Folon ruffled her hair. “Yep, and each of us knows ‘Merm’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that the kid was instantly smitten.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Man, if the old me could see me now,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, dropping his kid into the arms of a former enemy and feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>about it. Folon looked like an entirely different person—his face lit up with each chant of ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merm! Merm!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’, his eyes became watery when she spoke broken Al Zhani.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas left them to it, turning back to the others. “That should keep them busy for awhile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re happy,” teased Ladekahn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—!” He cut off his instinctive denial. “...Yeah. Folon is… family. You guys too.” He almost apologized for not asking first, but couldn’t bring himself to in the face of their delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibari’s eyes vanished into a mess of sun wrinkles. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> getting sappy, just like Melodia said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave him a flat stare. “Just how much do you all gossip about me anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as is necessary to be kept abreast,” said Lyude, who appeared in much the same way as Folon had. Though his diction was as formal as ever, his smile was not unlike that of his other fiance, who shot out of his shadow to tackle Kalas into Gibari’s solid mass, kneeing him lightly in the stomach when he playfully tried to fend her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kua, lysjothth!</span>” she greeted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>An aey’tu ztaasb ze zuovk sa val jol ketlth, zku bevu’th es aey—thku ortuola ruotsul zkus orr ntes</span> </span>
  <em>
    <span>su</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes slyly. “<span>Ek, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sek</span>
  </em>
  <span> thku’th aeytth.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re never letting that go, are you?” he said, still grinning happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s getting carved onto your gravestone,” she agreed, pulling back to let Lyude have his go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I heard an eyeroll.” Papa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only one?” Melodia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas be on his best behavior for Xiuhcoatl!” Mizuti.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he now?” Savyna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, let’s stop picking on him—he’s going to think we didn’t miss him!” Lolo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, it’ll keep him honest.” Trill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s doing well enough for himself in that regard.” Calbren.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t feel real, seeing them all gathered together. Logically, it wasn’t the first time since the Descent, but the other occasions were a blur in his mind—faint impressions of what he’d thought and felt. Without thinking about it, his camera blinked into his hands and he snapped and snapped and snapped. Group shot, portraits, turning the camera on himself to ill-framed results. It continued until Trill and Savyna were called to their stations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The contest itself was held in a hollow on the outskirts of town, with spectators arranged on large marshmallow toadstools and polypores. Depending upon the quality of seating, an attendee would follow a path around the ridge or join the contestants in a sunken lane straight to the bottom. Those who could afford it had the largest shelves reserved. Considered prime seating, the reserved booths had their natural rain cover supplemented with adjustable rolls of gelatin sheets, some of which were arranged by color to resemble stained glass. Baubles adorned them—blown sugar lanterns, flaky coconut garlands, and balls of cake coated in mirror glaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Melodia had in many ways humbled herself from the person she once was, that in no way applied to her infamous sweet tooth; she accepted the best booth as a matter of course and hogged the complementary opera glasses. Ladekahn, Lolo, Folon, and Ayme, the ones least accustomed to her ways, soon learned not to dally when the sample tray came by, lest their portions be claimed by sticky fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aside from Savyna and Trill, Kalas recognized Peachy, Tisocco, and Donella. The other five finalists were a stark- and starch-faced Al Zhani confectioner, a colonist with chipped shoulders and a penchant for butterscotch, an Earth Child in the process of self-mummification via sugar strands, a mage from Wazn juggling several batches of semifreddo, and a Hassalite dressing up a cake with marzipan thornflowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tisocco and Donella never paused in their trashtalk, even during delicate stages of their cake construction. The former was in danger of spoiling his trademark cream with all the foul air he was spewing over his tiered cheesecake. Meanwhile, the latter was furiously accusing him of plagiarism as she whisked her chocolate—it turned out both had opted for a mint-based recipe. Peachy, whom had been strategically placed between them, looked ready to smother both in her coffee trifle. Trill nervously trimmed surplus dough next to her soon-to-be-former master. Savyna was churning out crepe after crepe—most went into a stack glued together with alternating layers of compote and malted chocolate sauce, the rest rolled and positioned artfully around it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha would’ve enjoy this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought made him turn to Xiuhcoatl, whose umber eyes gleamed a familiar gold in all the excitement. He was suddenly reminded that he never did ask what Corellia had determined about her nearly a year ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come to think of it, Melodia had the same reaction too.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He glanced her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up from a candied concoction, lower face smeared an alarming red, just in time to meet his gaze. She sidled over, collecting sample tray crumbs with her fingertip along the way. Popping her mushy prize into her mouth, she leaned in ear-first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, so what was it you were saying before? About Xiuh and Corellia,” he asked, just above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she was shoving a cream horn in his face, exasperated. “You, my dear, need to work on your timing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, sorry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waved it off. “Never you mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Kalas,” Melodia sighed, tangling a hand in his hair and combing through, “It’s Xiuh’s magna essence. How to put it…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If she seems to not have one,” he said slowly, thinking on his own experience, “it probably just means hers is different. Like me. And Fee and Valefor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “No, it’s not like yours. If we’ve been hesitant to share our findings, it’s because her soul—” Her mouth clamped into a frown. Then, pointing to one of the contestants—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he realized, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Xiuh’s reflection in the ornament glaze</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—continued, “It’s more than her face that resembles Xelha. I’ll admit I thought she was our dear friend reborn back in Holoholo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does this </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s to say? That’s a secret Xelha took with her to the depths,” she replied delicately, “Unless she shared something with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> that we don’t know about?” Her pointed Look made the guess she was too polite to utter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas flushed. “Then—then she’s really…?” His neck snapped towards the kid—</span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> kid, by choice </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>blood—where she was tormenting Folon with half-formed questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the Great Whale sets His eye, wonders are sure to happen,” said Melodia, tone carefully neutral. Understandably so, given her own mishaps with regards to divine favors.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Meaning that the only one I can ask is the Whale himself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep within his heart, he felt a burble of excitement from Fee, the first in quite some time. The aeon woke rarely, and only in response to catastrophic threats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(When Kalas rose, dizzy and fatigued from his hours-long vigil, he almost fell over again at the deafening cheers of the Earth Children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?!” he yelled, gesturing towards the festering sea, “The storm’s not over yet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But neither hell nor high water could stop the flood of terracotta masks from pouring out the city—nor, it seemed, the Grand Summoner. A variety of replacement faces, all as exaggerated in emotion as most other regions’ were in proportion, swarmed around him even as Fee’s shields broke down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They badgered him until he gave them the aeon’s name, then until he accepted an appellation on Fee’s behalf. Though he wouldn’t ever admit it, it was helpful in conversations, being able to differentiate between Fee, his little brother, and Alexandros, the aeon.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so rare that Kalas felt bad about denying Fee the fulfillment of their promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Fee’ and ‘Whale’ were long past meaning childhood dreams to him. He wasn’t ready. He wouldn’t be ready for a long time, if ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead he chased the other thread of implication, muttering, “Do me a favor and don’t mention it to anyone? If word gets out that she really is mine and Xelha’s….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been going to make a flippant remark about the Al Zhani consorts and how much they already teased him, but that led to thoughts of Alfard—the reverence for their Divine Child, the Grand Summoner, and Queen Kaffaljidhma, Master of Aeons. On the flip side was Wazn, where Kalas, son of Giacomo, son of Georg was seen as all but wed to their beloved Xelha, the Final Ice Queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all that Lyude was ceding back territories as fast as the senate allowed, the empire was just that: an empire, with all the international influence that implied. Between their blossoming trade network, the technological prowess required to achieve said network, and willingness to use it in the interest of disease prevention and recovery, the high opinion of Kalas spread as easily as spilt oil, even to places where he should, by all rights, be despised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wazn, too, reaped the benefit of its status as a legend come to life, provider of heartenbrace, and birthplace of the Mermaid (as Xelha was increasingly coming to be known, thanks to Kalas’ own public recitation all those months ago). If the people accepted Xiuhcoatl as Xelha’s heir, it would be a done deal for the rest of the world as well. If they accepted her, they would indubitably accept </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there Fomalhaut. They were already fixated on the Whale Child—and wasn’t he kicking himself for </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> lapse in judgment—</span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> her parents; if they learned the truth of her origins, there was no telling how their plans would escalate. And if they targeted the Divine Child and the Wazni princess, there wouldn’t be much Kalas could do to keep the affiliated nations—namely </span>
  <em>
    <span>all of them</span>
  </em>
  <span>—from overreacting. And if another war started, with the world still recovering from the consequences of the Descent—!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sweet smell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something soft mushed into his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t happen,” said Melodia simply once he left his head, as if it were no more than a comment on the weather. She handed over the dessert she’d poked him with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Trill’s pie. Boysenberry and wild strawberry in dark chocolate, if his nose was reading it right. The slice had been cut beautifully, allowing for the preservation of her impeccable latticework. He also had one of Savyna’s crepes on his sample plate. The crepe itself was fairly plain, which made sense given the topping. He’d been correct about it being malted chocolate but the red of the compote, rather than a safe choice like raspberry, came from rhubarb, which had been paired with peach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he wiped away the smear on his face, he sighed, “You don’t even know what I was thinking about.” After a moment’s thought, he licked the filling off his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She merely smirked and feinted towards his plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no choice but to call out his sword, using it like a baker’s peel to lift the sweets out of reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If heroism couldn’t be put aside for one day of pie and sibling torment, well, he’d never been suited for it anyway.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It ended up being closer to five days, as he couldn’t deny Xiuh’s pleading eyes, nor the hints dropped by the rest of his family. Aside from his display with Melodia reigniting the fervor of gossip hounds, it was the most fun he’d ever had at a Baking Festival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither Trill nor Savyna won the contest—the auxiliary award for Best Performance went to the Wazni’s flashy style, while the Al Zhani tearfully accepted the prize for Best Dessert. While both were deserving, he had to wonder how much the decision had to do with preventing a fistfight between Donella and Tisocco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four remaining in Mira saw the others off at the port, then returned to Balancoire, Calbren parting hundreds of photos richer. While Trill was bathing in her family’s praises, Kalas left Xiuh with her and slunk off to unwind from all the excitement. He wandered the canals until the midday bustle died down, traipsing through the dregs of traffic to reach the Archive. Sagi’s section was becoming quite robust, as was Lord Coatl’s. He rolled up in a quilt and picked up where he left off, only stopping when a red sun tried to read over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back at the diner, Trill Sr. greeted him with a warm hug and meal before shooing him off to aid her daughter.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He loved Trill, really he did, but as soon as the last box was unpacked, he made an excuse to leave. Which was how he ended up roped into another favor so soon after the last one ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mind letting them know… you know,” the apothecary asked awkwardly, gesturing vaguely, “Keep to themself mostly, save for other summoners, and the boys would never trouble them.” He squinted. “Might take it better from you anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the ajar entrance to the back room, Kalas could see the crowd of snooty-snouted imperial merchants and medical practitioners. He wasn’t sure how an asocial herbalist would resolve spiraling contract renegotiations, but he was begrudgingly invested in the preservation of pleasant relations, so he jotted down the directions and set off. His destination wasn’t in what was known as the Sheraton District but rather the far side of Cujam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, the herbalist was in the garden by the humble stone cottage, rifling through a tiered trunk. From it came an amulet—one of many, if the herbs’ adornments were any indication. Mountain caplin, bearded and leaner than their lowland counterparts, milled about in search of food, though they seemed to know better than to approach the garden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kalas neared the doorless gate to the thornwood log fence, he startled a sleeping brood of cluckers, who scattered in a fury of feathers and their namesake.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CLUCK-CLUCK-cluck-CLUCK-CLUCK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Startled in turn, the gardener looked up from a small, sparse shrub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dark blue eyes with an Al Zhani spiral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dodging the birds running between his legs, he called, “<span>Sa jol! Zku sulav—yk, A suos </span>
  <em>
    <span>odez.... ku… vota?</span>
  </em>
  <span>—ku koszul aeyt kurd kazk thesu Al Fhard sutvkoszth</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nodded once. “<span>A’rr ju tabkz zkutu</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Koaz, zkoz’th az?</span>” he asked they finished up their charm, “<span>Ku solu az theysl ravu aey’l thoa se</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A keyrls’z tunythu aey.Retl Kalas, az’th su, Rheong.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a moment to place the name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> been awhile,” Rheong commented, tugging the last knot in place. The gloss of protective magic ran across the shrub’s bark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Cujam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hummed. Brushed the dirt off their knees in a businesslike fashion. “Azha is safe in the hands of His Excellency… and I fear I’ve grown crooked to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mean ‘grown apart’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that doesn’t… sound right, if that makes any sense. Azha is growing back to what it should have been, while I have become something other. It no longer feels like home, so when Odette was practicing her pitch on me….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like when trees have to bend over backwards to get light.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s enough about that,” said Rheong, nodding towards Xiuh, “She takes more after you than her mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feigned ignorance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They started to speak, exasperated, then glanced every which way. “<span>Zku sezkut ath eyt ludotzul vesdosaes. Les’z kezkut lusaasb az</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t do much if one of the merchants got impatient, but he appreciated their discretion nonetheless. “<span>Kka le aey thoa zkoz?”</span></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Kreel zurrth,</span>” they replied, slowly adjusting their bun, “<span>Osl… Kut Rolathkad thvozzutul ze zku thuoth. Zku vkarl vosu ntes zku thuoth. Az sovuth thusthu, se?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>A vsek aey vsek thku koths’z o tuor sulsoal.</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They chuckled, near soundless. “<span>Soaju sez, jyz A vsek kurr zku doththasp en uppth</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he sighed, he couldn’t help but crack a grin at the joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their smile in return was blinding in a way that highlighted the dimness of their prior expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a few steps into the journey back towards the city that his curiosity got the best of him. “Can I ask you a question?” At their nod, he continued, “Why was the apothecary so wishy-washy about asking for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rheong’s answering gesture seemed to indicate their entire body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t get it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sigh. “The enslavement of the Hassalites.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… you’re not Al Fhard, you’re Al Zhani. If anything, that should make you partners in crime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What difference does it make? I’m of Alfard. They have every reason not to trust me. We all share the same bloody legacy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re fine with me, and I’m Al Zhani.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a long time, nearly a minute, before they answered. “...With all due—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just say it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not. You don’t know anything. You’re just… not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hit hard. Much, much, much harder than he thought it ought. He’d despised the land of his birth and all it stood for. He’d stayed ignorant of it out of spite, no matter that any knowledge at all would have helped him get away from his would-be kidnappers—to in any way acknowledge his heritage would mean to accept himself as Al Fhard, to accept the way he was treated. Not just at the hands of the Al Fhard but also the Yevonites.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he was about to swallow his pride, little snippets of memory came:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poignant lullabies.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(He couldn’t understand the words, but he could still help sing them to his little brother.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The scent of spice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(In meals and tea and smoke—it never truly left the house.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Folktales half-forgotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(He knew them all by heart.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mundane rituals.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(No matter how sprawling Gramps’ work, they had the cleanest rugs and floors in all Balancoire.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Heresy to Yevon.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(There were whispers after the Calm that the engineer was to blame, though they quieted when Sin moved on.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tricks only they knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(It was a year out of Alfard before he learned to tell time from a clock.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Inherited skills.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Declaring tradition dumb, he’d designed his staff himself.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfounded rapport.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Piscella, Almarde, Rheong themself… and Lyude, who he’d never quite managed to hate.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His family.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(His family.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> Al Zhani.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They agreed, troubled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” he grumbled under his breath, “...I don’t look Al Zhani, I’ll give you that, but no one’s ever going to let me forget that whole ‘Labasu Hqarl’ mess.” He looked down. “I think even the Empire’s forgotten how far I went to reject them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rheong shuddered at that. But for the rest of the walk, the silence was companionable... when it wasn’t broken by smatters of quiet Al Zhani.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>For the third time, Kalas heard the chant of Fomalhaut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the third time, it came from the interment site of an End Magnus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, he avoided direct confrontation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it then,” sighed Mo, barely intelligible due to the way Moonguile Temple distorted the already muffled speech, “The Dark Brethren will never come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost, Momuh,” replied a smoky alto. Judging by its clarity, the owner must not have been wearing a mask, “We still have to finalize the spell back at HQ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third voice he recognized as Fish Head, the first member of Fomalhaut he’d spoken to, who snapped, “Be careful, Sister! There be no predicting when the Deceiver be lurking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever she said was swallowed into a mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kalas scanned the Cloister of Trials for an adequate hiding spot, he was reminded of his companion by a light tug on his pant leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Ath az zku kol byath, Katlau?”</span> she asked, the words barely more than spit bubbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, put a finger to his lips, and blocked an eye and ear with his other hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stay quiet and hide.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers mimed legs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Following them?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It burned at him to shake his head, but he already exposed her to too much danger without going out of his way to find trouble. He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad a father.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not that I’ve had the best role models.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He guiltily thought of Gramps and Papa, less so of Giacomo. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll let them pass. I can tell someone else what to look for.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They tiptoed out while they still had the chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike what he’d heard of Leviathan’s section of the temple, the resting place of Marno ar Monarno had not been maintained. Perhaps by design, the entrance was concealed by an apparent cave-in, the minimal light creating the illusion of a solid cliff face beyond. But if one knew just how to sidle through the cracks, there was a path near wide enough for his full wingspan, which lasted for the few steps it took to reach the other side of the ridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond was a forest with ruins more ancient even than the Age of the Gods. It was as populated as any other part of Moonguile Forest, in particular with sweet-voiced bluebirds. The temple, if it could be called that, was almost as much living wood as it was stone and mortar, right up until its heart. There it more closely resembled its sister, with winding, boobytrapped walls leading to the Grotto of the Fayth. He wondered, not for the first time, if the reduced wear was thanks to the energy of the End Magnus—if it was enough to hold islands in the sky or resurrect the dead, then surely the elements were no problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As such, the main concern with hiding in the temple was having to account for incomplete cover and unpredictable pathways. But the Earth Children were coming and Xiuh had already wriggled her way inside the hollow of a fallen trunk, so he ducked inside a partially-standing room and waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just in time, as Fish Head bobbed out, followed by the rest of his cronies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last to exit wore a caplin mask, its eyes closed and horns curling across the back of her head in a cross. She revealed herself to be the mystery speaker when she begged permission to relieve herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, she began flouncing his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no way to flee that wouldn’t give away his location and thus endanger the kid, so he flattened himself against the near wall, drawing his dagger.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Swish.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Swish.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He tightened his grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Swish.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Swish.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Miraculously, she didn’t react when she passed the threshold. She turned into the opposite corner and fiddled with something out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d just dared to think he’d be able to pull off the kill when she drawled, “Rookie mistake, cornering yourself like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew the whole time,” he accused, keeping his guard where it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew and didn’t say anything. Either she’s looking for an easy promotion or….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>On a hunch, he changed languages to ask, “<span>Kke le aey ketv net?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh. You’re already the smartest summoner I’ve met.” As she turned around, she slid the front of the mask free, revealing dun skin, a lock of silver that had escaped her blue hijab, and ice-blue Al Fhard eyes. The wry twist of her mouth suggested that it wasn’t a high bar to clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have time to deflect, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sister.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you don't have a hand worth playing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deceiver.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slotted the mask back into place, then released water from a magnus. If nothing else, she was devoted to the illusion of a latrine break.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If Lyude sent her, he would’ve told her to trust me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The longer he thought about it, the more he realized that there was only one move he could make if he wanted her to share anything she’d learned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring intently at the caplin’s heavy lids, Kalas made a show of casting his knife to the side. “If you’re a spy, taking me prisoner would make you look good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe so. Maybe this is a trap so that you’ll hand yourself over without any fuss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you were really my enemy, you wouldn’t give yourself away like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless that’s what I want you to think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got friends in high places working to take down Fomalhaut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You one of those friends, Your Highness?” Amusement dripped from the mask’s serene smile. “There’s no point in interrogating </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lord Kalas; I don’t know where their headquarters are yet.” She regarded him in consideration before turning back towards the waiting group. “Go to Vega if you want answers—tell them ‘V’ sent you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She left, then Fomalhaut left, and he was left with the certainty that if V hadn’t wanted him to know she was K.E.S.U, she never would’ve approached him in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he rejoined with Xiuhcoatl, her face was scrunched up in irritation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They talked about us,” she reported. Spinning on her heel, she did the same ‘let’s walk and talk’ gesture he’d seen Savyna use. She looked so serious about it that he couldn’t help but laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joining her, he held out his hand for her to hold and swing. “Nothing good, I hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katlau, stop it! They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Utter affront perched upon her nose and upper cheeks. Being around the age of two—or so Papa had guessed, which more-or-less matched Kalas’ timeline—she mostly looked constipated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it bother you?” When she made a confused noise, he clarified, “Having a dad who people say mean things about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her free hand punched her hip, face snotty. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Duh!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You should be good. Like </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She pounded her chest for emphasis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, huh?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pout. “You’re making fun again! Sheesh! I hate you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Kalas snorted, trying not to take her words to heart, “Point is, it doesn’t matter what those weirdoes say; idiots like them won’t last a day once people begin to wise up. I’ve come out on top against a lot worse than Fish Head and his cronies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so,” she muttered, but her umber was lit up by a gleam of challenge. If there was one thing the kid loved, it was Kalas’ stories. Sure enough, it wasn’t so much as a minute before she added, “Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked and launched into the tale of his and Lolo’s battle with the Holoholo Bird, complete with renditions of her automatons’ dance and a bird call so accurate, the woods around them burst into unseen movement, followed by unnatural stillness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he finished and she was compelled to ask where his guardians had been, they were entering back into the main temple. So he let the unsettling atmosphere do most of the work for him as he recounted their ill-favored venture into the treacherous Ancient Library of Magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d just gotten to the stormlit arrival of the Mad Bitch of Azha when his name echoed from a nearby chamber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Heeeey</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you can’t just end the story there! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heeey! Katlau!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she squawked as she followed him, as graceful as a newborn prancer bolting across a marbles tournament.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made sure to not move too fast for her to keep up… at least until he could ascertain where she would be safest.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The source revealed itself to be the temple’s atrium, wherein stood a contingent of Rodolfo’s guardsmen. The captain stepped forward, Whale Eye at the ready. “Lord Kalas, your presence is requested by Lord Rodolfo!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although tempted to dismiss the summons, he knew it was for the best to plant the idea of cooperation early, lest the nobleman’s offense at his exclusion preclude any chance of him being useful.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did I decide to be a responsible adult again? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he groaned inwardly, already annoyed at whatever the hell it was the man wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his side, Xiuhcoatl crouched like a frog, throwing herself unsuccessfully at his shoulders. He caught her on the second attempt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Lord Rodolfo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The ruler of Sadal Suud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reentered sunlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he like Uncle ‘Kahn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hah!—hem, sorry,” he said to a guard, “Swallowed a gnat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They raised an eyebrow. “Why are you apologizing to me? ‘Hah’ is right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure what to say to that. The group marched on in silence for a solid minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> he like Uncle ‘Kahn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> he?” echoed the guard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the front, the captain sighed loudly, limply flicking his hand to silence the titters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas’ mouth twisted up in thought. Finally, when the little hands tugging his hair became too much, he replied, “Rodolfo’s… cut from another cloth, shall we say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A yank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Batting the gremlin away from his aching scalp, he sourly explained, “He talks about boring stuff and only likes money and power. He’s always the last to join in when something’s important and the first to toot his own horn.” A pause, and then he added, “Shit at cards though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Okay.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>At least he’s as unhappy about this as I am.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, Rodolfo was possessed of all the joy of a kitten catching a raindrop on his nose—surprise followed by contempt followed by, presumably, hours of pampering to make up for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the guards took their leave, his usual dissatisfied frown grew to overtake him from brows to jowls. “The child will be safe enough in a guest room.” Taking a swig from a wine glass, he peered over the rim at him. “We’ve also padlocks, if it’s necessary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not going anywh—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was cut off by the thwump of a two-year-old’s weight slamming into the door, then the click of it snapping shut behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas stared at the door, at a loss as to how she’d moved so fast. Over his shoulder he asked, “Did she have wings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skin flaps,” the other replied, taking the liberty of setting up several glasses, “A strange creature of the Earth known as a ‘flying squirrel’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Cool. Hope she enjoys them, because she’s grounded after this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nevermind the games of children—no one in this manor will allow the beloved daughter of the Grand Summoner to come to harm.” On Melodia or Geldoblame, or even Lyude, his gaze would have been aristocratic, commanding. On the self-styled lord, however, it spoke of his insecurity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas sighed, annoyed. “What do you want, Rodolfo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glaring until his guest sampled the mountain apple wine, Rodolfo folded his hands atop his desk. It was different from the one three years ago. Try as he might, Kalas couldn’t remember if they’d trashed the old one during his pilgrimage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sadal Suud used to enjoy certain… privileges.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said nothing. Instead, lacking a chair, he eased onto the fine mahogany until he sat with one leg propped against the molding, the other folded against the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When a pointed stare did nothing, Rodolfo curtly continued, “Now that there’s no Sin to keep the other Sky Nations in check, it’s only a matter of time before we lose sovereignty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made sense. Foreign interest in Sadal Suud had usually led to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sin’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> interest in Sadal Suud—never a good thing to have focused on the producer of the majority of the world’s food. Without a disaster-driven immunity to annexation, the farming nation had little to offer in the way of defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That the current lineup of rulers was uniformly benevolent was a temporary comfort at best; somewhere down the line, someone was going to get greedy. Maybe someone else would take the country underwing for the citizens’ own protection, rendering them seized in all but name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that in mind, Kalas shrugged and said, “Yeah, that’s about the size of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Developing our military would be pointless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Given the competition, he had to agree. There was just no way to catch up. And if Sadal Suud </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> manage it, the price would be food shortages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nor are we known for being a people of </span>
  <em>
    <span>culture</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As petty the distinctions between fine arts and crafting, the nation heavily favored the latter. Diadem had her painters, Alfard her musicians and weavers, Wazn her sculptors, Anuenue her traditions of dance, the Earth Nations their tilework, and Mira prided herself on doing anything and everything. Sadal Suud had very basic, very practical textiles and pottery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that the Earth is restored, even our exports will suffer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hassaleh was well suited towards caplins, goats, and chocobos. Anuenue was able to quite literally spread her roots into the market for produce, as had most of the Earth Nations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re looking for a gimmick to stay relevant in politics.” He waited for confirmation before continuing, “You must be really desperate if you’re coming to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolfo harrumphed. “You have the entire world eating out of the palm of your hand. Who better than you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t—!” But he couldn’t finish his denial. “Okay, fine, but not on purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Then again….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Without asking, he slid into Rodolfo’s chair and rifled through his paperwork. While the owner sipped wine in the background, he scanned the documents, all of which pertained to Sadal Suud’s economy since the Descent. What he found wasn’t pretty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had taken the better part of a year for the nation to be declared plague-free. During that time, not only had enormous swaths of the population died, food reserves were all but depleted in a year in which no planting was done. Livestock had suffered as well, necessitating imports from other regions. Sadalians were hard workers and Rodolfo was surprisingly good at management and numbers but recovery was slow and slowing. The lord’s projections, impeccably detailed, saw Sadal Suud reach a point of barely breaking even in only a few years’ time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But that assumes things stay the same. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Flipping through again, he tried to glean an untapped industry, some kind of edge they had over other nations. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe specialty products…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas could see fancy cheeses and pedigree animals being popular with Mintakans and very few others.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There has to be something… maybe land parcels?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With smooth enough talking, bored aristocrats could probably be inspired to buy country estates, which meant carpenters, service staff, fine food… but held the same problem as before, in that the wealthy alone couldn’t—or, more accurately, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>—bankroll an entire country, no matter how pretty the view.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tourism? It’s a long shot but if we’re aggressive—!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sadal Suud </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> beautiful, but the question was if it could stand up to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> regions that could make that claim. The pitch would have to focus on the idea of rejuvenation, he decided; the pure streams, hiking for all levels of mastery, unadulterated food, the smell of pine to cleanse the spirit—all with the backdrop of swaying wheat and ancient ruins—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...That’s it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know Lolo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolfo grunted. The sound may have been approval or resignation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Magus Sisters have her combing the ocean for ancient relics. As in ‘predating the Age of the Gods’ ancient. If you tell her Kalas thought Sadal Suud’s ruins would come in handy….” Anyone who knew Lolo wouldn’t need the sentence completed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still seemed sceptical. “If that’s the case, I might as well contact the Sisters directly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, has to be Lolo. Wezn is just step one.” Kalas scrawled down the rest of the plan.</span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>Lolo gets excited and talks it up to everyone, conveniently forgetting her source.</span></li>
<li><span>Wezn gets involved, which means that Wazn’s coffers get involved, Alfard gets intrigued, and the Earth Nations get their scholar up.</span></li>
<li><span>Calbren’s historical preservation kick goes into overdrive.</span></li>
<li><span>The School of Magic wants to muscle in. They request permission to study on site.</span></li>
<li><span>Make everyone pay to be allowed to excavate. All the activity means that innkeeps and local markets will make a killing. Sadal Suud’s reputation expands beyond ‘here there be farmers (and maybe plague)’.</span></li>
<li><span>The more foreigners visit, the more likely there will be a wave of immigration.</span></li>
<li><span>Immigration means innovation.</span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>By the time Kalas finished explaining, Rodolfo’s face had gone smug. It was only when the lord thanked ‘His Royal Highness’ that he realized he was well and truly played.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Later, when he was walking the twilit streets of Pherkad, the kid dozing on his back, he was hailed by a voice he couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t sure who he was expecting to see, but Palolo III, Diadem’s former spymaster, was not it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?” Palolo teased, “Wouldn’t want you getting grumpy again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be with your kid?” he shot back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palolo shrugged. “Working on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Which means the brat is playing hide and seek or something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to move along when he recalled the last time he’d dealt with a missing child. He already knew that Fomalhaut was in the country, and if it was anything like Anuenue…!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his offer to help, Palolo gave an aggravated sigh. “You’re barking way up the wrong tree, buddy—he just ran away from home is all. No biggie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘No biggie’?! You’re out of your mind!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking for him, aren’t I?” he protested mildly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He could be in real trouble right now.” Kalas felt his lips curl down on one side. Sourly, he added, “And if he’s not, then he’s probably up to no good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a Palolo, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s up to no good,” the spymaster laughed, hips canting into a further relaxed posture. “But this time he’s poking his nose where it </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t belong, and he dragged his sister into it too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you do know where he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Side-eyeing Kalas, he said, “Anyone ever tell you you’re a real busybody?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas glared back, squaring his stance and crossing his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worse than ‘Kahn,” he muttered, rolling his eyes to the side, “Look, you guys met my sister, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pilulu? The resistance fighter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Palolo’s pupils contracted, it accentuated their amphibian-esque form. “Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Let’s just say </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> still into the ‘family business’, whereas </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>happy keeping my neck the way it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he didn’t clarify the nature of the business, his skillset and on-again-off-again employment in espionage was explanation enough. Any more and he might be honorbound to silence Kalas. He could only assume Palolo III wanted to continue his training past the whirlwind trick Kalas knew his father had taught him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she dropped by while I was out and the kids got mad that I never told them about her. I thought I could head them off at the port but….” He shrugged. “It was looking like I’d missed them even before I ran into you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was conflicted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On one hand, he’d spent much if his life pissed at his family for keeping secrets. On the other, if he’d had Xiuh before the pilgrimage and Giacomo had shown up, there wouldn’t have been enough left of him to justify funeral expenses. But his feelings had changed since then. The thought of introducing his daughter to his sort-of father made him… happy, in a way. At the very least, he’d made his peace with their relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come to think of it, I haven’t visited at all… I should get on that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to clue me in on what’s going on inside that noggin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Choosing his words with care (as he so rarely bothered to do), Kalas asked, “Do your kids—did you teach them to think for themselves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The streets had darkened considerably since the conversation began, and so he missed Palolo’s expression. His posture didn’t change, however, and there was barely any tension when he replied, “What do take me for? If anything I did too good a job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what are you worried about?” Kalas gestured to the street they were on. “If they’re skilled enough to slip past you, it’s not like your sister can hold them against their will either. You should go visit or whatever, find out what they all want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted. “Like that was ever in question. See you around, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palolo folded himself into the winds and vanished. After checking that Xiuh hadn’t woken, Kalas did the same, making for his preferred inn.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He almost didn’t recognize Azha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, it was the same dustbowl it had ever been, but the streets were full of laughter and workers on break. Flame ice, the lifeblood of Al Zhani culture, was being loaded into a series of well-maintained caravans rather than the old human-drawn carts. Their tawny chocobos—imported from Algorab, based upon the breeder ‘earrings’ looped into a skin flap near their ear holes—were enjoying olegrain feed nearby, as well as numerous tiny hands grooming them excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since Kalas had thought to purchase a head scarf, they were able to take their time without fear of getting mobbed. He never thought it’d be so nice to go unacknowledged. Xiuh led the way for their adventure, gliding in spurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“<span>Yk, that…</span>,” the spice merchant protested weakly as he watched the kid scoop up a double handful of cinnamon and open wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was already digging through his coin purse. “<span>Thetta okeyz zkath. Vuud zku vkospu</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Aey’tu… sez jeasp ze thzed kut?</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, he filled a satchel of his grandpapa’s favorite spice mix. “<span>Ek, kurr se! Zkath sapkz ku kut rothz vkosvu ze ruots sez ze dyz tosles thkaz as kut seyzk.</span>”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they had stocked up for the last leg of the journey, he all but swaddled Xiuh in clothing intended for Nihal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk was as short as it was pleasant, which was to say that it might as well have been a year under the stern eye of the sun. He was glad that he hadn’t attempted the trek before the Descent, when it would have been somehow even hotter and brighter and drier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was for that reason that, knowing full well he was about to be pinned to the wall by a scythe, he dove headfirst into the cave, shouting, “Hey, Gramps, I’m home!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he’d sat up, unwound his protective garments, and shaken out the sand, his grandfather had arrived in the entryway, mostly freed from whatever project he’d been working on. A tangle of metal thread was hooked into his goggles, which Kalas could see was but the first of a chain of snarled coils trailing behind him like a bridal gown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boy, it’s so good to see you’re well!” Gramps cried, “And who might this be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the question, Xiuh asked, “Why are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is </span>
  </em>
  <span>this</span>
  <em>
    <span> how Papa felt?</span>
  </em>
  <span> If so, he owed the man an apology for being such a rude little shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gramps, however, nodded slowly in consideration. When at last he answered, it was with the same gravitas that he afforded colleagues. “A question that has plagued mankind since our birth. Larikush could give a better answer than I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s the number-three smartest person I know,” she cut in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas had sat through enough lectures to know that #1 was Mizuti and #2 was Folon. He himself was the third dumbest, followed by Rodolfo and a tie between every member of Fomalhaut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? You’ll have to introduce me to the other two—he’s my number-one smartest! Ah, speaking of which, I seem to remember him hypothesizing about oxidation—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That means guessing, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right you are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In less than a minute, Xiuh and Gramps vanished into a whirlwind of questions, digressions, and mechanical parts. Kalas was left with Giacomo, who slunk into view with a basin of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems the old man finally learned how to speak with children,” drawled Giacomo, walking away again once Kalas began washing his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what that was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hearty laugh echoed back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Kalas rolled his eyes in response, he couldn’t help a very small smile; his self-proclaimed father had a scathing wit that was easy to appreciate when it wasn’t directed at </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once clean, he turned the same corner to find the kitchen. The board astride barrels that served as a table was set with tea essentials, Giacomo laying out bread and spiced jellies. Behind him, so close as to endanger his wool, a pot of mutton curry simmered over hot coals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without any armor at all, the former imperial officer could have passed for the average miner. Like most Al Zhani men, he sported a mark on his forehead, visible behind the wisps of his long, loose bangs. He wore his hair in a bob cut, his chin in stubble. His clothing was generic for the region, aside from a funnel-necked cloak and bare midriff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kalas slid onto his low stool, it hit him how similar it was to the flight from Mira.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you?” asked Giacomo. What should have been a perfunctory question had a similar air to pre-battle banter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Not bad,” he decided to answer, “The kid talks now, so it’s less boring, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, Giacomo poured the tea. “I noticed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured as widely as the cramped walls would allow, teeth locking into a bitter sneer. “I’m doing well under the </span>
  <em>
    <span>watchful</span>
  </em>
  <span> eye of </span>
  <em>
    <span>father dearest</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was on his feet in an instant, knocking over his seat in the process. “If you even think about hurting Gramps, I’ll kill you myself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peace, Kalas.” Giacomo raised his arms in surrender. “I’m… </span>
  <em>
    <span>grateful </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the chance I’ve been given. I shan’t squander it on old grievances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held his glare as he righted the stool, only letting it fall away when Giacomo took a swig from his cup. Kalas, too, sipped. The earthenware was comforting in taste as well as nostalgia—it had been Papa’s go-to until they had to flee the cabin—which made it easier to shuck his own old grievances.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Giacomo, me, Fee….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe fourth time’s the charm?” he muttered, listening to his grandfather’s throaty timbre ramble on about his mess of projects. Xiuhcoatl’s questions had slowed down and he could picture her sitting attentively on a pile of junk. Maybe imitating Auntie Melodia’s posture, maybe flapping a hand as she recognized a concept from somewhere in their travels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo made a noise between a grunt and a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did say ‘maybe’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meal continued largely in silence until the soft grind of sand against stone announced the return of the household’s third. Papa wrapped Kalas in his arms and rocked him, muttering gooey endearments in his native tongue. Then the other two appeared to interrogate him on oxidation and then the kettle made another two rounds and then it was time for the evening meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the end of the day, Kalas was exhausted but pleased to be with his loud, messy family. Xiuh conked out in the middle of her pudding, Gramps following soon after, too caught up in debating magnation theories with a hypothetical opponent to notice his audience leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When a jackal’s call split the dusk, the strange, human quality to the scream reminded him of the task that awaited after his visit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seen anything weird lately?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No luck, then, with Fomalhaut?” Papa asked mildly, explaining to Giacomo, “An Earth Child cult—anti-heartwings, preoccupied with Malpercio’s tombs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas made a face. “I saw them at Moonguile, but other than that….” He shrugged. “They said they were done with the tombs, so there goes my only lead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The comfortable atmosphere turned pensive. All three were left to their tics: Papa reorganized his medicinal supplies, Kalas optimized his decks, and Giacomo topped off the spice jars. Kalas reread the same handful of paragraphs of his abridged copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Under the Serpent’s Banner</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Giacomo thumbed listlessly through a courtly romance, and Papa mouthed along to an Anuenuan treatise on physic gardens. Giacomo swept the entire house, Papa set the cluckers marinating, and Kalas scrounged outside for firewood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At long last, after half an hour of pretending not to notice each other pretending to be asleep, Giacomo said, deep and low, “There’s an oasis in Nihal where the nomads gather. I used to meet with informants there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about it. “Not like I have any other ideas.” He rolled to his feet, offering Giacomo a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His rising eyebrow was barely visible in the sparse lighting. “You do recall I’m under strict house arrest, don’t you, boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if you care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I already mentioned, I like this arrangement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You coming or not, Pops?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the pause that followed him slipping up again, Papa knocked him lightly in the shoulder with his staff. “If you’re determined to pursue this course of idiocy then take care not to wake the others.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It would be near dawn when they arrived, Kalas and Papa on the latter’s robust chocobo whilst Giacomo kept pace behind, in case they ran into law enforcement. Not that the law would have time to concern itself with them, given the sunken earth where the oasis once stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oases don’t just disappear like this,” Papa muttered, prodding clumps of bone-dry sand with his foot, “Not on their own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas turned to reply, only to catch sight of a splotch of green fluttering in the sinkhole. In an instant he was there, cradling a motionless body in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No pulse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shook in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Papa landed beside him, gently easing the victim away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas watched distantly as the doctor investigated what was already clear to all of them. The nomad in green couldn’t have known their water source would be gone, and therefore wouldn’t have packed enough water to make it to the next closest oasis. Their nails were filled near lifting with grit, as if they’d tried to dig through to the reservoir below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You…,” he tried to say through his dry throat, “You said this doesn’t happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pause that followed was charged, but with what he couldn’t tell. The first blush of day caught on the sand grains, causing them to flash, or else glow at the edges. Were he to rock his head side-to-side, it would be like staring down a host of spear points. A bead of sweat formed just below his ass and stroked downward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands on his shoulders grounded him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Papa still looked wary, he clarified, “There are signs. Signs I don’t believe would be missed in so travelled a rest stop as this. And yet I’ve not heard mention of it in town, nor did our friend here plan for such an eventuality.” His jaw clenched. “But if there was interference, the mana from the spell will have long since dispersed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a hunch, Kalas beckoned to the pyreflies of the oasis.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tink.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ting!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tink.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ting!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Haaaaaaaaaah.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>One by one by one tiny suns rose out of the desert, chiming and sighing as they nuzzled past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the reservoir isn’t dry after all,” he mused, unthinkingly bringing his sword to hand, “If that’s the case….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Kalas…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gliding to where the concentration was thickest, he dropped to his haunches, opening himself fully to the rush of water below. It was like joining a song in progress; his magna essence resonated with those around him, the echoes of those hugging the water a buzz traveling his spine—no, his blood, the outlet of a stoppered flow—!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what are you waiting for?” he chuckled, as gently as he might with his child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas was no Ice Queen. No Xelha. He couldn’t manipulate water like she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> good at sweet-talking pyreflies into doing the heavy lifting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still laughing, he led the water back where it belonged, dancing and sweeping the sword like a conductor. Higher, higher, higher—!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Slap!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. Around him, the water surged almost guiltily back into its confines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, thanks,” he said to Giacomo, adding under his breath, “...Pops.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo thumped his shoulder as he walked past. “Ah, but to be back in the glory days… you truly would have been Divine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you—oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Underfoot was neither the ground nor the jelly-like surface of water reinforced by pyreflies but something in-between.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting the corpse beside him, Papa ran a hand along the grooves. “What in the world…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Xelha.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mm?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why is there a rock in the bed?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She began stammering and going pink.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His first instinct was to tease her. But then he thought about what happened directly before it appeared. “Uh, this isn’t… um… like…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘An egg’</span>
  <em>
    <span>, he wanted to ask. But then </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d</span>
  <em>
    <span> be the one getting teased.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Um, well.” She fidgeted. “It’s… easier if I show you…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At first nothing happened. Then, as grainy as an imperial broadcast, their prior activities played across the surface of the blue sphere.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She smashed it before it got much farther. It dissolved into pyreflies.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would...! Well, Shiva says it happens sometimes… when emotions run high and the conditions are right… pyreflies will crystallize in water, preserving the moment.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Want to just…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, let’s.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After making sure there were no others, they settled back into each other’s arms.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, it was the same material. When Kalas peered into it, he could just make out flashes of his dance. “Xelha told me about this once—I’ll explain later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike the sphere they’d found in the bed, however, whole billows had crystallized into something like steps around the rim of the former sinkhole. Because the water had shed its sediment during their dance, it would probably be difficult to tell where one ended and the other began until the next sandstorm. Also formed were tree-like structures, as if the water was recreating the memory of what it had originally been. There was no way of telling for sure without relearning what must have been common knowledge one thousand years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what, precisely, is stopping you from discussing it </span>
  <em>
    <span>now?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” snapped Giacomo, waving towards the sliver of molten red upon the horizon, “There’s nothing to be gained here. Might as well make the ride back interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kalas had spotted something in the depths of the pristine water. Without another word, he shrugged off most of his clothes and dove. When he returned, it was with every spare magnus filled with more of the mysterious memory spheres.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Most of the spheres were of nomads enjoying the oasis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One detailed its destruction.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“O Mighty Ocean, forgive us this sacrifice.” Having spoken, Fish Head signalled his followers to punch through the bottom of the pool, watching as it was reclaimed by the earth. He descended.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there—?” Kalas began to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo was already stalking away, cloak snapping in the still air from the sharpness of his turn. “We’ll just have to make our own entrance.” His voice was tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cracking his neck, Kalas grinned as he felt Valefor clamor in his heart, wide and toothy. A wave of giddiness, not unlike his earlier dance, passed over him. It was intoxicating, more so than anything he’d felt since the white wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so eager that, when Giacomo found the specific patch of dunes that were considered too unstable to travel across, he pushed him out of the way to climb into the clouds. At the zenith, he tipped lazily over into a short-lived freefall; he caught himself as Valefor materialized into place, bracing a foot against the aeon’s bars.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THNCRSH-CHEESHEEE-CHEESHEEE!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A flaming spiral became a superheated drill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he was in the right place when the screaming began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dismissing Valefor, he landed in a crouch atop a shrine made of canvas, leering down at the terrified cultists below. He slowly scraped the tip of his sword against the rock, enjoying the notion that their hideout was screaming along with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, guys. How come I didn’t get an invite?” he cajoled with a jaunty wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A heavy thump came from behind. Larikush facilitating Giacomo’s landing, no doubt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of more interest was the mandala covering the floor. Where the rest of their headquarters was unpolished at best, the mosaic was precisely arranged upon an unnaturally level surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we have here?” He stepped off the roof and sauntered over to the design. An Earth Child here and there thought to oppose him, but lost their nerve at his gaze. Once again, there were other items in need of his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mandala’s heart was an eye. An eye that he just knew held the answers. It was so very blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his cheeks bunch from his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kalas!” It was Larikush. The old man scurried to be alongside him. He was like a mouse, brown and white and shy. “I think you should wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not so shy then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided to humor him. “Yeah? What’s your diagnosis, Doc?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other regarded him with suspicion, maybe even contempt. “I think you need some air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Air?” As he stepped forward, Larikush stepped back. “I spent all night getting air. What more could I need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the doctor failed to reply, he realized that he’d been distracted from what really mattered. He turned back to the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time it was the convict that got in his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be heading back, before someone notices you’re gone?” he asked, irritated. After so much pressure to investigate, they were getting in his way the moment he could actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>see?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“An interesting choice of decor,” the other noted, “The former emperor would approve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you…?” He followed the finger to his point of entry, where the sand had glassified from Valor-for’s flames until it resembled a crystal chandelier. “So? What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand grasped the back of his head by the hair, forcing him to walk forward until he could see himself in the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes. Electric blue and spiraled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas jerked back. Giacomo let him go, nodding in satisfaction when he saw that he’d snapped out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t…! How did they…?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Clutching his cape around himself for comfort, Kalas reoriented, this time actively searching for hints of the Brethren’s presence. He almost buckled under the pressure, bare as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you people were trying to keep the Dark Brethren away forever!” His voice crescendoed mid-sentence until he was yelling at Fomalhaut, having whipped back around. “Are you all nuts?! You’re gift-wrapping the world for them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be knowing what you be speaking of, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas of the Brethren’s Wings</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” snapped Fish Head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the space of his conversation with his grandpapa and Giacomo, the cult had regrouped. With Fish Head at the front, the rest—some fifty or so—had encircled the trio in a dome of reflective spells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leader cried out, wand aimed for ricochet rather than accuracy, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Holiaga Flare!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it was safe to open his eyes again, Fee stood with his arms spread wide, warding off the spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” said Fish Head, “Then we be at a stalemate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Until I run out of mana anyway.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Which wouldn’t be long, given how he’d eaten through his store in such a short time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We need to retreat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo seemed to be on the same page, for he barked, “<span>Levzet, ku’rr kerl zku rasu kutu! Aey, kea, sythzut kkoz zteedth aey vos!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Nyvv aey!</span>” Kalas shouted back, quickly downing his strongest ether, “<span>Kkoz zku kurr otu aey beasb ze le kazkeyz osa kuodesth?! </span>
  <em>
    <span>A’rr</span>
  </em>
  <span> thzoa, aey osl Dodo zovu zku katl kovv ze Btosdth, thuu an ku’th bez osa luozk tejezth raasb oteysl</span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Les’z ju neerathk</span>!” Papa stomped to the forefront, jaw clenched like he was practicing for rigor mortis. “<span>Sa kkazu sobav ath aeyt kuthz vkosvu ze buz okoa ntes kutu. Ruz zkath erl sos dtezuvz aey keath oth ku thkeyrl kofu ntes zku thzotz!</span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the way Fee swivelled his head and pout-glared, Kalas could imagine him insisting that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> should handle it, as he had stronger magic </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> was already dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KSHHHHH!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As one, they leapt away from the sound and flash of electricity. But it wasn’t Fish Head’s doing—the lightning erupted from his chest, and then he hit the floor. Before gravity could do its work, however, V was already flipping away on her winglets, striking the frozen cultists with pistol-whips and spinning kicks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Pykz heyrls’z huur aeyw seku eyz, heyrl aey, weehau?</span>” she said as she landed in their midst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop calling me that,” he muttered back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have it your way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike at the Celestial Tree, Fomalhaut was able to recover some of their cohesion. While some tended to Fish Head, others levitated the mosaic out of danger or counterattacked. With each spell unleashed, the already precarious ceiling bled more sand and pebbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time to go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Great Kalaaaaaaas!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mo intercepted before they could reach the glassen shaft. He was joined by a girl with a crater mask. Their fists enveloped by water and embers respectively, they flew—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—straight into Giacomo’s haymaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mo lost a chunk of his mask, though one could never tell the difference from the grimace it revealed. Trails of liquid, red and clear both, leaked down his chin as he snarled, voice cracking from youth and betrayal, “Great Kalas, why couldn’t you just—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas didn’t realize he’d slowed until V bumped into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dropped his name so you could investigate, not get attached!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy was panting in agony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…,” Kalas choked. He took a small, jittery step, then another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He was my father!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Mo shrieked, trying and failing to rise, “Why did you—</span>
  <em>
    <span>I stood up</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas broke into a cold sweat, then a sprint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Great Kalas!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask you to,” he chanted as he sprang from groove to groove, “I don’t even know you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky was bright and yellow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has nothing to do with me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A puff of sand grazed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not my fault you—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kalas… why is it so dark...?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Back. He had to go back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone caught him mid-dive, forcing him back towards the surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, wait, please, I have to save him—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THWUMP-SSS-SHHHH.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let go, </span>
  <em>
    <span>let me go!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shadow rose up the shaft to meet him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And blinked, to find himself on the chocobo’s back, being held in place by his grandpapa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V and Giacomo, who were walking in front, paused their rapidfire Al Fhard to glance, impatient in their pity, at the sound of his stirring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<span>Thhhhhk, thhhhk,</span>” Papa murmured in his ear, holding him firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued shushing him.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>They returned to an unconcerned duo making sandwiches, though Georg’s face fell as soon as he saw the state of his family. Kalas wrapped himself around Xiuh before she could notice his mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And stayed there.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Barnette met the </span>
  <em>
    <span><span>Tkodthela</span></span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lyude’s personal ship, in the harbor, despite the late, cold hour. She even kept her comments to herself for once, merely herding him to the chamber of the White Dragon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t travelled alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiuh came, of course, and was the reason he’d been up for the trip in the first place; he’d woken to a toddler with a breakfast tray and oven burns the second morning after the incident and realized all at once that he was forcing </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> to take care of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just like when Gramps would get caught up in his tinkering. She knew something was wrong, but he made sure to keep it as far from their interactions as possible from that point on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giacomo’s house arrest was temporarily lifted in order to beef up the empire’s ranks now that they were aware that, somewhere in the world, a small clan of powerful wizards was working to bring back the Dark Brethren. Gramps and Papa, meanwhile, were in charge of inventing a device that would be able to locate their power signature. Lyude was earning his nickname by the sheer number of issues he was juggling: imperial reparations, the search for Fomalhaut, restoration efforts, and partnering with K.E.S.U, to name but a few.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his place, he’d sent Ayme and Folon, ostensibly to gain diplomatic experience to flaunt before the ever-disapproving senate. Kalas knew full well that their true task was to keep an eye on him. Even he himself couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t disappear again, spooked by phantoms of his mistakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He also knew that, in a way, babysitting him </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> an act of diplomacy.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so he spent the remainder of the year mucking the White Dragon’s den, helping out with festival preparations, and ignoring the idolatry of the cityfolk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(‘Prince Consort’ and ‘Sojourner King’ they called him. Each time he heard it, he made sure to behave as un-princely as possible, at least until Ayme jokingly called him ‘Lyude’. He spent a week putting bounty hunters out of work before she caved and apologized, however sarcastically.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His least favorite errand, rescuing lost hikers, resulted in the accidental creation of a settlement. It started with a lean-to under an overhang—since most of the missing persons lost their way gathering the same remote potion ingredients, it became his favorite path back to Cursa, due in part to a series of unique formations easing navigation. The lean-to became a small cottage when he had a large group and a storm on the way. A few decided to stay nearer to the ingredients until their potions were mastered, then stayed longer still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wrong turn at the outhouse revealed a hidden valley. In an implausible intersection of variables, the geothermal energy, insulating structure, and protection from wind made for a drastic shift in climate. The overhang cottage became a watchtower and the permanent residents moved to what were, in the literal sense, greener pastures. With fascinating herbal mutations, omnipresent pyreflies, and the opportunity to go coatless, a village seemed to spring up overnight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“It’s as great as you said!” gushed a new arrival, throwing her arms around a friend, “Does Errai need a mayor? Because I kind of want to be the mayor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The friend laughed and smacked her and, oblivious to Kalas spoiling a chocobo nearby, exclaimed, “Don’t be silly! We don’t need a mayor </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> a lord in a town this small!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared into the bird’s eyes, realizing with horror that the title was not being used in recognition of his aeons. He stayed just long enough to tack up a ‘Mayor Nominees’ sign on the town noticeboard before taking the long way back to Cursa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His feelings towards Barnette </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> soften at her valiant efforts to let him pretend the whole incident never happened, knowing that he himself would have delighted in the fertile teasing ground.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His involvement with the Fomalhaut case unfortunately necessitated the occasional appearance at council sessions. That alone would be annoying enough, but increased contact with the regent led to her discovering the fail-proof method of tricking him into governance—namely, to frustrate him with a barrage of snooty idiots until he snapped and created policy out of spite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Shut up,” he told the painting of Xelha in the ballroom, having just concluded a heated debate by dismissing the obnoxious duke from his presence. His sour look did nothing to quiet the titters of his fellow organizers, nor their gossip about his marital status.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> eloped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>something’d</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be mourning or something?” he grumbled, “There’s no way fantasizing about your dead queen is respectful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a concert that could only be practiced, all fifteen rolled their eyes.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so the days passed until the third annual Festival of the Calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Feast Day of Wardens. Ordinarily he would’ve enjoyed the parade and costumed dancing, but behind every mask was a crying boy. He only barely remained in attendance, and even that was by throwing himself into the antics of Mizuti, Xiuh, and Melodia. The night ended with a knowing Gibari goading him into a drinking contest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas began the Feast Day of Martyrs with a pounding headache and no memory of anything past an old witch passing him an ‘enhanced’ potion. He made a note to thank her if she showed up again—he was so irritated he could barely focus on the rose-tinted portrayal of the Ice Queens’ burden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Third and final of the themed days was the Feast Day of Heroes, the only day he’d attended previously. It wasn’t the numb misery of that first festival but it was still terrible. He collapsed face-first into bed at the end, formal robes still on, and slept until Papa woke him midday for yet another conference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scanning the audience chamber, he already wanted to go back to bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drifters like himself and Mizuti aside, the attendees were clumped by allegiance: Barnette and the Magus Sisters; Papa, Giacomo, Geldoblame, and the imperial family; Gibari and Ladekahn; Calbren and Melodia; Corellia, her advisers, and Lolo; Rodolfo; and Krumly, Kamroh, and other big names in the Earthfolk nations. V, who, as it turned out, was a founding member of K.E.S.U, sent in her stead a man with lilac hair who was at least as pretty as Ladekahn. His bodyguard had the same looks but paired it with extensive battle scars, a rugged handsomeness that defied age, and a scowl. Kalas vaguely recognized him from the succession summit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several hours of shouting and a recess later, the assemblage was no closer to a solution than when it was Kalas alone who was looking into things. The only new information was brought by proxy from V, who was able to confirm:</span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>Those under the oasis constituted the whole of Fomalhaut</span></li>
<li><span>Which areas their message had resonated</span></li>
<li><span>They were genuinely zealots, not just stirring the pot</span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>Kalas’ own concentration was flagging; he used the recess to rearrange the stacks of reports in his workspace, the better to surreptitiously sort his photographs by purpose, developmental stage, and quality. Every so often he’d glance up into Gibari’s glazed eyes or Catranne’s polite yawn or Mizuti’s not-so-polite yawn. Lolo had done a bellyflop on the floor, not even bothering to hide her oversized blueprints. His favorites to watch were Savyna (who started occasionally, as if realizing she’d blocked out entire debates) and Folon (started out doodling fish, which became seductive merfolk, then silly pictures of Giacomo, then anatomically questionable portraits of his lovers).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was in the midst of a surprisingly divisive argument between Corellia and Geldoblame—one advocating to buy time with diplomacy, the other eager to nip dissent in the bud—that the door slammed open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Kaffaljidhma’s housekeeper, alongside a trio of footmen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the princess!” one yelled over the hubbub of their entrance, “She was taken by a masked intruder! He—he said that the Great Whale demands her back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the other attendees reacted to the pronouncement, a grim, vengeful joy settled in Kalas’ bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, yeah. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This</span>
  <em>
    <span> is what it felt like back then too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“How… pitiful.” Melodia’s voice held an echo of her old madness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met and it was like they’d never repented. Helping her set up to scry was a well-worn series of motions—pass the bowl, pool their water sources, and sift through herbs, keeping up a steady stream of banter and jargon all the while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Mels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to use my tainted blood to help focus the search.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought for a moment. “What if you scry for Xiuh? You said her magnus was pretty unique.” When he got a hum of acknowledgment, he tore out a lock of hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the frayed blue was knotted around a leaf, she dropped the bundle into the water. After a pause, she said, “The ruins of Cor Hydrae.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whistled. “They move fast. Got anything that can keep up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “Our best chance is an airship, and even that would take a while. It might be too late by the time we arrive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if we game the weather in our favor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smirk unfurled across her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had but spun on his heel, however, when a pair of brawny arms hooked through his armpits and lifted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold your horses there, Kalas,” said Gibari, not letting up even when he stopped struggling, “It’s no good if you rush on over and then run out of steam. You know we’ve got your back.” The unvoiced ‘don’t you?’ was spoken in the tremor of his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, he didn’t have to think about it. “...Yeah, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anger still roiled sickeningly within. But maybe that, too, was something he need not dwell on.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t think. Don’t act. Just feel. Worth a shot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Unlike her timely rescue of the group from the White-Winged Darkness, there was no summoner on location for Pixie to use as a link for teleportation. However, that didn’t stop her from employing the wind to set the fastest ships at their disposal on a furious charge south and westward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cor Hydrae, when they reached it days later, was a blot on the horizon, a smear of wrongness that was difficult to look upon in much the same way as his old mirage circlet. That alone would have been proof of the Dark Brethren’s presence, as it had not appeared so before, even when the keep was whole. The air surrounding the otherworldly stone was spiderwebbed with the same ‘scar tissue’ as during the final battle three years ago. Out of curiosity, Kalas tried to touch it, only for his hand to bend away without making contact. A buzzing sensation radiated from his knuckles and he stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop!” Melodia screamed suddenly, “If we go any further, we’ll be dashed to pieces!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A barrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A barrier, invisible but for a sheen if one knew to look, encircled Cor Hydrae. And this time they didn’t have Malpercio’s power to punch through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t!” Gibari yelled back, “It’s too close—we’re just going to have to hope it breaks!” No such hope could be found on his face, but still he took a position on the bowsprit, spear extended in white-knuckled hands. He was joined there by polearm-bearing knights, who took up positions on the other ships as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those versed in white magic took turns reinforcing the weapons’ durability and attempting to dispel the barrier. If anything, the wall became stronger in response, as if it knew they were there and was shoring up against them. As it grew in power, it also became nearly opaque, a field of shimmering flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A nearby Anuenuan soldier nearly dropped her pike in alarm. “No way we can break through that! At this rate, we’ll have to jump!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At this speed?!” a Miran snapped back, “We’ll be torn apart!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Al Fhard fired into the dome to no avail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hopeless. It was all meaningless. Kalas knew the thoughts weren’t his—knew it from the sublime despair that surged out of control—but he couldn’t disagree with them either. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> hopeless. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> meaning in this display of mortal pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if the sky itself was in agreement, a shadow fell over the small fleet.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Waaaaaaohhhh~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The barrier reverberated with the sudden Whalesong, shattering just before it would’ve killed them into ice-cold wisps. There was no time to celebrate, however. In an instant the ruins were thick with fiends—monstrous cats that flew on bat-like ears, spindly angels with scythes of bone, oozing hounds bedecked in spikes and eyes, humanoid spiders rolling on their bulbous abdomens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes met with one of the cats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>W̓̽oͥ̔ͪ͋ͩ̐̿e-̂lͮảd͗ͦͩẽ̈́ͮn̊ ͧ͋Cͤ̿̏̉̇͂hͪ̄i̐̈́̈́́̇̈́͂l̾ͪͧ̾͆͊ͣd,͛̊ͬ͒͒͑ ͐̓̏̅̽o̽̇͂ͮ̽üͬ̒r͛̄͌̍̈ͯ̉ ̄̄M͒͋a̽̈ͫ̅͑̂́sͯͣ̓ͫ̾ͯẗ́ͧ̾ē͗ͮͨ̂͊̊r̆͋ͥs̽̈́̊ ̌s͌ͯĥͪ͂al̓͌ͭͤl̏̏̓̓̀̃ g̃͛̓r͑̅̾a̽n̍tͧ̿ ̌̏͗y͂͆̊͂̅o̒͊u͋ ̆͌͆̆̀̃̑on͒͂ͯ͛̚̚̚e f̒͌̐͊in̄̓͐ͮ̿̄ͫa͆ͪ͋̎͒̓lͯ́ͥ̏ ch̑ͦͭͩ̾̍̌a͐͛̊̂nc̆e̎̆.͌̓̀̈́</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were spoken directly into his mind in the throaty hiss of a feline.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>T̂̓h̓̄͋͛̋ͩͥe̒ ̈́̆́̽̎d̂ͥ͂̈́́̏́e̍́̍̚p̉̿̿a̋̓ͣ̒̓̒͂r̀̾ͩͥ̔̓̊t̿̄̇ͯë́̀ͣ͗̔ͫ͛d ̎ͨ̊á̔ͣ͗̔̓r̀ͩͤ̒̔̚ě ̅nő̈͂t̐ bͮͤ̓ͮ͐͛̌eͤͣ̍͂̐̑y̓ͥͪ̽ͣo̐ͨͬndͬ ̉̆̓̔̍̌̅u͊̀s̓̔.̀̐͒ͫ̓̆</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off!” he yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yȯ̅ͫ̇ͭu͐͛̇ͮ̓̚r̒̿́̃͆̚ ͊h̋ͦe̍̓̇͌̑́̚aͫ̓͋̈ͥ̍͊rͣͧͭ̽̋ͭ̋ẗ́͆ haͨ͊̋̂̌sͮͥ̃̋͋̈́̒ ͭͭ̏̽̾n̾̀̅ͫ͆͒͂oͤ̀̃̈ͪ͗t͒ͭͩ̾̃̏ ĉͬ̀h̅̒̿͊ä̎n͌gͯ͂ͯͦe͗d̒̈́.̀̑̅ͯ̏ ̉̊ͦͮ͆̌Y͊́ͬͪ͋̉o̽̾ŭr̋ͣ ̐hͨe͆͂ͧa͂̌r̎̔ͨtͩ̑ ̆ͩ͆̾ͯw͆ͭ̆̅͌ͪ̔i̔̊̂͌͒̋l̋͋̍͌̓ͨl͆̀ ̐͌ͣ͆nͮ͋̊ͥe̍̔v̏ẽȑͣ̚ ͛̓̑ͤ̇c̃̽ͤͭ͗͌ͪh͑a̐ͫn̍̋͂ͮ̄̔g̾̓e̐̄̎.ͯ̉ ̑ͨ̌͗͆̀Ỹ̈́ͯ̊͛̾ǒ͗̊uͩ͑ͧ͂̀̓̐ ͧ̉͆͛̑ͦ̈a̓r͒̿́ͥ͐e̔̈́͋ͦ̃ ̅̐̊B̀̎̒̈́ͮ̎rͬ̆è͛̐ͬ̾tȟ̔̀̿̉͊̀r͛̎͛ͪ͑̄e̊͛̃́͊̚n̏.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said ‘fuck off’!”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yͨ̔oȗ̏ ̌̀͂̐̒̽̎wa̅ͭͨ̂ń̈̾̂͂̂t̆̚ ͣ̌̀ͥ́͊t͌̎ō̉ h̎ͣͭuͮ̆̈̊ͩr̆̍͛̌̑ͥ͊t̽͗ ́͋̓͗̿͆̌ẗ̉̍͒́ͧ̄hͧ͋eͣ̾ͥ̇ͤͭ̈m̏̽ͣ̈,̈́ ͆͋̄t͊ͬͪh̃̄͐̓̓o̔sè̎̎̎̎ ͦ̇m͋̋̉ořt̀ͯ̑ã̀͐l͊s͋͌ ̏w̄̂ͭhom͊̈ͬͫͬ͆ͨ ỳͮͫ̿̊ỏ́ͥ̄͋u̓ͨͤ͒̂̾͗ ͤaͦr͌̂̒̂͋ͤe ͋̇n̉̌̾ͨo͑ͥ̔̄̾ͫ̈tͬ͛̔̔̅͐ ͮ͋͋ͪb͊̋lŏ̏ͥͥͮͪͦod.̾ ͌ͣ̎̐̓͋̚Ȉ̿̌ͩtͮ̊̌̓ ̈́́wo̐̋u͊͋̉ͤ̏͑lͭ̈́̀ͧ̃͐͒d̓̆̚ b͑ͬ̏̚e̊ͨ̂̔ s̑̊̓̍oͯ͆ͧͣ ͂ḡͨ̽oͥ̽̏ȯͤ̔̐ͯ̋͋dͦͬ͋̂ͣ ͂ͦ̄t͆̒̂oͥ̀̾́̓̎̐ ͌ͭ̑̓̽t̃ͭé̾̀̀̑̓ả̒̎ͤ́͗ͭŕͪ́͋͊͂͐ ͛͒̄ͬ̇̇ö̎ͩ̚u͋̉t̋͑͛ͨ̿̎͋ ͊ͮ̓͌tͪ͊ͮ͛̂̆hĕ͛ͦͮ ͊͌̑w̑̅̔̈́ͩiž͑̅͗ͤͭ̓aͮ͒ͨͨ̍̎r̎ͮͭ̓͗̀̔d̾'̂s̄ͥͫ̆̓ ̽̐ͯ͋ͪhē̓͂̎aͨ̍r̃̈́̇͛̾ͥt̍̎ͨ̒.ͧ͑̇</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Images of the damage he could cause flocked his head, not all of them hypothetical. Carving into Gibari’s chest. Digging his fingers into Lyude’s throat. The disappointment he’d felt when he realized he’d only stabbed an illusion of his grandpapa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> would make me happy? You need to work on your pitch!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Wͪ̽h̆̅̔̐ͯy̾̏ s̔ͨ̓ͮ̈͒hō̃ͩu̿l̿̓̄̎ͤ͂dͧͨͯ͆̇ ͂ī̽ͭ̀͒̃̓t̐ͥ͐̊ͩ ̇̽ͬͧb͑ͩͩ̋̃͒riͨn̋̄gͬͮͥ̈́̀̋ ͩ̽͛ȳ̈́̇ͯ̆͂ͥo͒u̍ͥͮ̚ ̉͋͐̎ͯ̽ͬjͥͬ̈́̔̇o͌́͛͋͒͌ͮyͥ?̂̆͑͋ ͤ̅ͭ̿̎ͨT̏̈̃̏hả̋̿̚tͬͮͤ̎̂ ̆̚ḯ͐̐̅ͭŝ̎ͤ͋ͭ ̏͒̄͗͑̓n̆̿̽̋ͫ͆o͒̒t̿͒̽ ̊ͣ͊y͑͊ͯoͮ̄̽̾͆ͬur̋̐ͩ́̃ Pȗ͂͋r͂̐̊̋̎p̒͆o͗̆̓̄̃s͂͛̃̓̄͋eͫ̈̑̍̉̍ͧ,͂̾ͦ̈́͋̌ ͒W̒o͂̈̅̀ͤ͑͊eͤ̓-ͥ̓̾̂͊ͣ̚l͆̊ͯ̌̅ȧ͆̌̍ͧ̂̒de͗n̈́̿̄͂͒ ̽̌ͦ̈́̐̐C̆ͥͫh͒̔ͬ̆ͧil̍͛d̐ͣ.͑̃ͮͤ̉</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched a vision of himself gliding through the streets of Cursa, methodically butchering every living creature. The White Dragon was the last to go. He ate her corpse, which had gone rancid by the time he was through, and from it extracted a pale, red-eyed Xelha. He led the lich queen back through her broken palace until he found the runaway: Xiuhcoatl, cowering under an overturned table. Xelha salivated at her daughter’s blood—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—and Kalas’ nose began to bleed from where it struck the deck. Something—</span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>—had tackled him. Above there was a rush of air as the cat lunged for where he’d been standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-those things...,” Melodia stuttered in his ear, sounding as shaken as he felt, “...whatever you heard… or saw… none of them are True.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah, right back at you,” he replied weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they crawled to their feet amidst the turbulent battle, he caught sight of Fomalhaut in the center of the open plain of the roof, the only part of the keep still above sea level. From what he could see, the mandala with the eye had been expanded to include words, though he suspected he wouldn’t be able to read them even if he was closer. If he wasn’t so angry he might’ve been impressed at all they’d managed with a third of their original number while evading an international manhunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he saw her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>XIUH!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Melodia lunge to stop him but he tore his arm from her grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spellcraft whizzed around him, making him laugh from the exhilaration of the midair gambol more than it did slow his progress. Wrapping himself in chronos as he dodged, he channeled it into a series of chaotic swings through the Earth Children’s ranks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xiuh!” he cried, grabbing her and rolling out of harm’s way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She said nothing. Her eyes were glazed over in blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cursing, he pushed her more completely behind him as he turned and rose, Sword of the Heavens locking with the blades of one of the Brethren’s footsoldiers. Another swung, forcing him to use his dagger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few steps away, one of the scars oozed red and brown goop, which, upon hitting the ground, coalesced into another footsoldier. Fomalhaut turned back to their work, a new chant that caused the space above the mosaic eye to roil and churn. There was no doubt in his mind that, were he to remove their masks, their eyes would be the same electric blue as the tile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all Kalas could do to keep his arms steady. His head pounded with each syllable, his heart ached under the strain of the Brethren’s growing presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From what he could see of the ship, the Whale Himself was playing the role of white mage, His song raising the fallen before they could so much as hit the ground. That freed the mages to bear down the power of light against the seemingly endless supply of fiends. Every so often, he caught sight of his friends trying to reach Cor Hydrae, only to be swept back up into battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shquensh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas heard the wet sound of meat before he felt the pain in his abdomen. Looking down, he watched as Xiuh’s knife ripped free then plunged again and again. He crumpled, and that was all his opponents needed to land the killing blow.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Waaaaaaohhhh~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d no sooner revived than he was slain again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andagainandagainandagain—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scent of lotus bloomed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas sprang away from the pool of his blood as divine swords rained down upon the closest fiends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a blaze of green and gold light, Fee Alexandros darted from scar to scar. His right hand, clad in a full hand bracelet gleaming emerald with the sand of time, undid the sutures of each dimensional wound, his left palm-out, the stem of a lotus blossom grasped between middle and ring fingers. The petals shot forward into the portal, transforming mid flight into the same swords as before, startails burning into Kalas’ retinas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With each visited, the presence of the Dark Brethren waned. Whether it was Fee Alexandros’ light or the Whalesong or both, the deafening pressure to </span>
  <em>
    <span>submit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>submit</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuttered like the breath of an inconsolable mourner and evaporated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With each visited, the seams were re-laced, neater than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around him, the Brethren’s servants twitched and distorted—less like a mirage than a fore-edge painting, contracting and expanding and sliding out of place. Fomalhaut, too, began to stir; those who didn’t pass out from the spiritual strain helped exterminate the sad creatures in their midst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for Kalas, he caught his daughter before her head could split against the tilework and got to washing off the blood. When she awoke, it would hopefully be with no memory of the horrors she’d witnessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she okay?” asked Melodia, padding up beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think so,” he sighed, passing Xiuhcoatl into her capable hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spared him a quizzical glance before checking the child over for injuries. The glance became a cry of alarm when he about-faced and strode purposefully to the edge of the keep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could talk himself out of it, Kalas launched himself towards the Whale, barely making the landing due to the distance and slick skin. Gulping down the awareness that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was lounging on a god’s head</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he rasped, “Hey, Great Whale. I heard you’re so smart you can answer any question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Waaaaaaohhhh~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” He managed a faint grin. “So, how about it? Think you can answer mine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Waaaaaaohhhh~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My question….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been so long since he’d thought about what he would ask if he got the chance. So long that only there, standing atop the grey expanse of the Whale’s head, did he remember that he never actually decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas didn’t consciously choose to fall backwards, but it helped clear his mind to stare up at the sky. In those days, Fee was like a fluffpup, going on and on and on about questions he could ask. Sometimes he would voice one, only for their grandparents to give the answer. Kalas, meanwhile, had kept his to himself. Remembering the top contenders made him wince for his childhood self-esteem.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not that it’s changed much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t care about his lopsided wings the way he used to; he found himself flitting across the field of memory, plucking the moments that seemed particularly vivid next to their peers. He was able to think of any number of questions based on them, but he let them fizzle away into motes of light. He was okay with not knowing. Others he kept stashed in his arms, unwilling to let go, even when he realized that they weren’t The One.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What will happen to Fee when I’m gone?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Will we be able to meet on the Farplane, even though he became an aeon?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Should I be forgiven for resurrecting Malpercio? Have I made up for it with everything else I’ve done?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is Melodia free to live her life, or will her body fail now that the Brethren are gone?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are the Brethren gone?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why didn’t you </span>
  </em>
  <span>do something</span>
  <em>
    <span> when it mattered? Was the War of the Gods our ‘fate’?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who decides what ‘fate’ is, anyway?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite visiting each memory but once, his arms were soon spilling over with pale yellow roses.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heh. Is this really my question?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wondered, annoyed at himself for falling into the trap of shallow emotionality yet again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just because it’s on my mind, doesn’t mean I have to ask it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the sky burst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not with rain, but with pyreflies—they came from his hoard as and the meadow he was only just realizing had taken the place of seaflesh. No, not a meadow—a pool as deep as a puddle, as deep as the sea; the flowers bobbed and spun across the dimpled pane as mist, cool then warm then cool once more, wafted around the jut of his jaw. It was salty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting up, he followed its flow to the source: a braidtree, larger than ten Celestial Trees, from which issued cascades of water. As he clambered to his feet, he noticed that the pyreflies were so thick that he could stand on the water’s surface without needing to direct them at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathed in.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I hereby lay my life down to seal the Ocean, to remove its song from the Earth…. To halt the neverending lullaby that has blessed this world forever past….” The cantor was a wizard, hovering over the ocean. In the near distance stood a woman uncannily similar to Xelha’s mother. The Ice Queen of old.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bell-like, she sang, “Cast light u~u~pon the darken~en~ed earth….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes wide from the vision, he demanded, “Is that your answer? Give me a break! I won’t say the past has nothing to do with us now… but it doesn’t dictate our ‘fate’ either!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sa~ave tho~ose lost in despair,” the Kalas of three years ago sang to a barren earth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Xelha’s smile was as pale as her lips as she sang her life away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt sick again. “That all you got?! I didn’t come here for shitty platitudes anyone could give!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Port Anuenue’s hasty construction was apparent even at a distance, as was the blood dripping from the hand in his mouth. The pain shook him from his panic and he bolted back across the rough planks to vanish into the cave shaft.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clumps of snow fell around the northeastern shore of Hamal where the ferry waited to take festival-goers northward. Amidst hundreds of excited humans, he was the only one to avert his eyes. He dazedly wandered off—he would end up catching the next voyage.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He all but jackknifed off his miserable spit of rock when roused by the Whalesong. He actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>did </span>
  <em>
    <span>when his searching gaze met its pair, nearly exhausting his heartwings into catatonia in his efforts to reach some other, farther rock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The captain from the colonies was too distant to be heard, but he knew her heart anyway: she was sure that a Whale sighting was a sign that fortune was on their side. Her small, relieved smile faded when he vanished underdeck without a word. She glanced back at her charm, nodded, and set to her duties with renewed purpose.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kalas was somewhere on Duhr Port, but the heavy flow of Earth Children blocked everything from view. In those early days, many of them blew their life’s savings on the exorbitant rates of the local inns and taverns, just to swim, party, and stare into the long-lost ocean. As soon as he had heard their cheers, he’d hid in his own room.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The black beaches of Anuenue were within eyesight, allowing him an easy escape. He turned just once during his retreat and almost made a rude gesture before thinking twice. He was almost ready.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The arc of the Nusakan Thornpeaks that veered from Cujam towards Holoholo was beautiful at that distance: Diadem’s clouds spilled over from the north, losing their vibrant hue as they thinned. It was much more pleasant than actually being amongst them, where the weather was unpredictable and prone to thunderheads. A particularly dark cloud slunk away into a crevice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The figure on the beach was weary-hearted, despondent, growing cold towards himself, but he was unflinching all the same. He was ready, as much as any thinking, feeling, imperfect creature could be.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This time he exhaled through his mouth. The salt was much more pleasant there than within his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it easier to save a human egg than the human herself?” Kalas asked, skeptical. He felt guilty describing Xiuhcoatl in such a manner, but it was the only phrasing that felt like it conveyed his true question.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Asujans were formless. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Their bodies held no more weight than their stares.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Their emotions were equally devoid of heart.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They did not belong.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Their very being was antithetical to the laws of mankind’s dimension, but still they seeped into the cracks, the meetings of the weaves—those places, so few, where formless found form.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Zaurak, where the veil thinned.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mira, where the veil crumpled.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mouths, where breath is voiced.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They seeped into fractured hearts and skulls and souls, onto the tongues that invited them in, out through the vessels that accepted their power. And for what? Not even they could answer when brought in congress. It was simply what they did. Without grasping all in their sight, they could not be Asujans; they could not be Asujans if they did not grasp beyond their sight. Theirs was an existence defined by definitions, a one-sided argument in support of itself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were incompatible with a world of tides and depths. Even should they claim all that they desired, the laws would not change—they could not exist outside the cracks, nor flourish, nor grow, nor achieve more than the wasteful downfall of the true denizens. There was no meaning to their efforts.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But they were Asujans, and such entitled them to the desperate, the weak, and the dead. Futility was their nature, for they were Asujans, the beings devout to futility. The home they left was to be mourned, as it suffered their absence as surely and keenly as their presence the home they could never truly claim.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They neither understood nor respected the laws of the dimension of men, and that was their undoing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But retribution they did know, and were pleased to engage in.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A desperate mother, realizing she was with child only when her flesh gave way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A weak queen, bereft of all that defined her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A dead woman, her very cells scattered across her world.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas choked, having inhaled again by mistake. Blinking away the reflexive tears, he saw that the Farplane—for it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Farplane, that was the one thing he was sure of—had shifted again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was on the ocean floor, the murky water blocking his view of anything more than three yards away. Above was darkness, below was sand patterned with an unseen light. Here and there were clumps of strange, undulating plantlife and snaking coral, which occasionally emitted pyreflies. He suspected they were the reason he could breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” he called, for lack of anything better to do, “Can I—may I leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Aooo~huu~aooo~huuuuuu~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes in the direction of the ethereal wailing, trying and failing to push the pyreflies into lighting the way. He was adrift.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Huu~aaaooo~uuuuuuh~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, I’ll play along for now.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Meandering. Dim. Sluggish. At several points he feared he’d lost track of the song, only for the warbling to change direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when he saw it against the pyreflies’ glow: an outline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less than that, even—it was negative space, only discernible where it wasn’t. Without light behind it, it appeared the same as the rest of the water. For being underwater, the aura was strangely flamelike, shifting forms too quickly for him to interpret more than basic shapes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Should I really be following this thing? I don’t exactly have a great track record with ancient mysteries.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xiuh’s face crossed his mind and he faltered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’ll be down another parent if I….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas stopped fully. Took stock. “There’s got to be a better way….”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Aooo~huu~aooo~huuuuuu~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice grew fainter. He imagined it sounded mournful.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who am I kidding? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, rocking back into motion, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, Xiuh, but your dad is greedy. I’m going to get to the bottom of this </span>
  </em>
  <span>and</span>
  <em>
    <span> get back to you. Maybe then you’ll listen to a story that </span>
  </em>
  <span>isn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘Merm’.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally broke into a run.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It was becoming easier to move, easier to see. Unfortunate, since there was less </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> see. At least he’d snapped a few photos, but he suspected they wouldn’t develop properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ahead of him, the aura had stabilized. He was pretty sure he knew who and what it was, but didn’t dare to examine his suspicions too closely—he remembered enough of that first year to never wish to repeat it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, the seafloor was beginning to rapidly steepen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When an incline became a slope, he knew he was getting closer to his ticket out of the Farplane. He grabbed a handful of grasses and hoisted himself upwards.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>As Kalas pulled himself over the lip of the slope, the song stopped. He waited for it to start again, but the only sound was the motion of the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello? You still there, mystery guide?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still breathing just fine, so you know I’m not out yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An eel poked its head out of a nearby hole, staring at him the same way Xiuh did as a baby. It slowly retreated back into its den.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, </span>
  </em>
  <span>am</span>
  <em>
    <span> I out?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He whipped about, searching for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, where’d you go?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Aooooohuuuu~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The weak sound came from the cliff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha!” With some squinting, he could barely make out her shade, once again amorphous. Desperate, he thrust out his hand, crying, “Xelha, don’t leave me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he grasped nothing more than foam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalas couldn’t say why he glanced back towards the surface—what, did he expect the eel to help?—but as soon as he did, a palm settled in his hand, fingers gripping like they had forgotten how.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha,” he gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They squeezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I turn around, will you still…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They jittered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Got it. Let’s… let’s get out of this dump, yeah? Smells like fish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a step.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Her presence was a quiet weight trailing behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first he tried to fill the silence with stories about what she’d missed, but the nearer they came to the shore, the more nervous he became that she’d disappear if he became too distracted. He ignored everything that wasn’t her hand, the growing light, or the twisting in his gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just stepped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And stepped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And stepped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he was breathing air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the same beach where he’d been given Xiuhcoatl—as he approached the shore, still steadfastly staring ahead, he saw the bassinet, still where he’d tossed it after baby extraction. Though the sun had set, the sky was still streaked with golds and purples, glorious and divine and royal. The sand, too, was a royal blue, matching the twilight above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shore was where he kept his eyes, even as the hand gripped more surely and the weight became mass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept going until he heard his name spoken softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xelha? Is it… really you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it’s me. No ghost.” There was a smile in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath stuttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha was home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without letting go, Kalas turned to face her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The foam was still present, sluicing off her bare skin to puddle in the shallows, where it stayed until the water rolled it away. Her cheeks were rosy under the evening glow, her eyes older in a way her body didn’t quite match. Whatever magic the Great Whale had worked to stitch her back together had only allowed for a fraction of the years to show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to break, you know,” she teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrapped his arms around her, and was embraced in turn.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“This fucking thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>again?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kalas groaned from the attached room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha giggled. “Do you want to switch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Thanks for putting it into perspective,” was his sour reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at her own garb and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is your fault,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she reflexively accused the void within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There came no response, for Shiva was no more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing again, she lifted her arms at her nanny’s behest. Her version of the attire was heavy, tight, and bared her shoulders—ill-suited for Alfard, even during the ‘cold’ months, but it was the only one both appropriately formal and available on such short notice. Without the weight of the world in her gut, she’d filled out, not to mention the muscle development from their travels; by the time they received the invitation, they’d barely had time to return to Wazn, let alone wait for adjustments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first layer was pearl-tinted satin, shoulderless decolletage that held close to her frame before flaring above her ankles, teardrops of warm blue stone pointing inward from the hem. Next came a corset of sorts: two ellipses of cyan velvet bordered with traditional Wazni embroidery, which worked to cleverly hide the lacing where the sides met. The upper curves formed a heart on her chest, whereas the lower ones dipped past her fingers when held stiffly at her sides. Next would come a waist sash topped with knotted cord, the stones adorning the ends hewn with artful roughness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then came the embellishments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Sword of the Heavens on her hip. A long cape of thick white bear fur, held up only by her posture and a brooch at her collarbone. A standing ruff with shards of glass—representative of the Ocean Mirror—sewn in like the facets of a dragonfly. Teardrop earrings twice the size of her ears. An escoffion, the dark velvet paired with chiffon of a pale but sprightly blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A whoosh and thump announced Xiuhcoatl’s arrival. “Mom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still so strange to hear that word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to marry Uncle Lyude too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For crying out loud,” Kalas whined, poking his head in, “Xelha, will you marry me? I’m tired of all the gossip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...You know, I was joking, but now I’m wondering if my feelings should be hurt,” he commented, slipping fully into the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha answered with a cryptic smile and a gesture towards the letter on her boudoir. It was the reply to her latest correspondence with Larikush. About a year after her return, she’d written him for advice on how to propose, which, over the past six months, had devolved into bouncing ideas for the ceremony itself. She was obligated to have a state wedding in Kaffaljidhma, even with the restructuring of the government, but that wouldn’t stop her from holding another on her—</span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span>—terms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he read through, his eyes widened comically and he kept flicking them up to stare at her. When he was done, she waited for him to process it. For him to accept all over again that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tie herself to him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to cherish his grumpy heart for the rest of their lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew that he had when he teared up. She spread her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuffled over as fast as his robes would allow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiuh tackled her way into the hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xelha was home.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al Fhard Primers: 22/22<br/>Al Zhani Primers: 7/7</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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